£r 


Virginia  TerhuneVan  deWater 


PHOTO    BY    MARCEAU 


/ 


The  Two  Sisters 


.  UBRAKY.  tO9  ANGEU» 


SHE  WAS  GOOD  TO  LOOK  AT  WITH  HER  CHEEK  WHIPPED 
PINK  BY  THE  WIND 


The  Two  Sisters 


by 
Virginia  Terhune  Van  de  Water 

Author  of  ' '  The  Shears  of  Delilah ' ' 


Illustrated 


Hearst's  International  Library  Co. 
New  York  1914 


Copyright,  1913,  1914,  by 
THE  STAR  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1914,  by 
HEARST'S  INTERNATIONAL  LIBRARY  Co.  INC. 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.     The  Decision i 

II.     The  Beginning 15 

III.  Mrs.  Halloran's  Lodgings  ....       30 

IV.  Settling  Down 39 

V.     Caryl  Takes  a  Position 53 

VI.     Caryl   Goes   Shopping 66 

VII.  An  Introduction  and  an  Invitation  .       .       78 

VIII.  Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop  ....       94 

IX.      Caryl  Tastes  Freedom 107 

X.  "A  Tangled  Web"  .       .       .       .       .       .117 

XL  Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  .       .       .131 

XII.  An  Explanation  that  Did  Not  Explain     .     143 

XIII.  A  Motor  Ride  and  a  Quarrel  .       .       .151 

XIV.  A  Bitter  Experience 161 

XV.  An  Evening  Trolley  Ride  .       .       .       .171 

XVI.  Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke  .       .       .       .181 

XVII.     A  Talk  In  the  Park 196 

XVIII.     A  River  Excursion 211 

XIX.  Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  .       .       .     221 

XX.     Ben  Hadley 232 

v 


2133474 


VI 

CHAPTER 

XXI. 

contents 

Julia  Is  Promoted  ..... 

PAGE 
238 

XXII. 

A  Gay  Evening      ..... 

2S1 

XXIII. 
XXIV. 
XXV. 
XXVI. 

A  Telephone  Message  and  a  Scheme 
"A  Long  Talk"  and  a  Resolution     . 
Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind  . 
A  Departure  and  a  Returning  . 

.      270 
.      287 
.      301 
•      317 

Illustrations 

"She  was  good  to  look  at  with  her  cheeks  whipped 

pink    by    the    wind."       ....       Frontispiece 


FACING 
FACE 


"Caryl  lay  face  downward  on  the  bed,  where  she 

had  thrown  herself  in  tearful  protest"       .       .       48 

"I — I  beg  your  pardon,  but  aren't  you  Miss  Julia 

Marvin?" 102 

"Despite  the  pleading  of  her  companion,  Caryl  re- 
mained firm" 236 


Vll 


The  Two  Sisters 


The  Two  Sisters 


THE  DECISION 

WHEN  James  Marvin's  wife  died  she  be- 
queathed the  little  money  she  could  call  her  own 
to  her  two  daughters,  Julia  and  Caryl.  It  was 
only  four  hundred  dollars,  yet  her  husband  was 
conscious  of  a  slight  resentment  that  in  disposing 
of  what  was  left  of  the  sum  she  had  when  she 
married  him  she  should  have  thought  of  her 
daughters  rather  than  of  him. 

The  fact  that  he  had  had  the  use  of  several 
thousands  which  had  come  to  her  from  her 
father's  estate,  and  that  she  had  never  asked  him 
to  account  to  her  for  a  cent  of  it,  did  not  prevent 
his  feeling  that  his  wife  had  dealt  rather  unfairly 
with  him  when  planning  for  the  disposition  of  her 
small  funds. 

Still,  he  had  set  these  thoughts  aside,  and  be- 
fore filling  the  blank  left  in  the  home  by  his  wife's 
death  he  counseled  his  two  girls  to  put  away  in 
the  savings  bank  their  four  hundred  dollars. 


2  The  Two  Sisters 

"The  cash  will  come  in  comfortably  later  on," 
he  said  to  them.  "Let  it  lie  and  gather  interest 
until  you  are  ready  to  get  married.  Then  there 
will  be  enough  of  it  for  you  to  pay  for  your  own 
wedding  clothes  and  for  your  own  wedding." 

The  two  girls  had  followed  their  frugal 
father's  advice — Julia,  the  elder,  willingly;  six- 
teen-year-old, fair-haired  Caryl  with  some  rebel- 
lion and  many  protests  concerning  the  number  of 
"perfectly  lovely  things"  she  could  buy  with  her 
share  of  the  money  if  she  were  allowed.  Al- 
though she  had  little  stability  of  purpose  and  an 
imagination  that  sometimes  got  the  better  of  her 
sense  of  proportion,  she  had  been  her  mother's 
favorite,  and  during  this  parent's  lifetime  had 
been  petted  and  indulged  as  the  none  too  happy 
wife  does  pet  and  indulge  the  child  whom  she 
loves  better  than  all  the  world  besides. 

Julia,  Caryl's  senior  by  three  years,  was  enter- 
ing upon  her  last  year  in  high  school.  Caryl  was 
still  in  the  final  grade  of  grammar  school,  from 
which  position  she  had  already  seen  one  class 
graduate  and  leave  her  behind.  It  was  not  that 
she  was  not  clever  enough  to  keep  pace  with  the 
other  scholars  had  she  applied  herself  sufficiently 
to  do  so.  "My  teacher  doesn't  understand  me," 
she  would  say  plaintively  when  she  carried  home 
an  especially  poor  report. 


The  Decision  3 

Her  mother,  ever  ready  to  stand  between  her 
child  and  the  father's  displeasure,  would  smooth 
the  matter  over  while  in  her  husband's  presence, 
and  comfort  Caryl  when  alone  with  her.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  this  daughter's  seeming  dependence  upon 
her  mother,  Mrs.  Marvin's  death  produced  upon 
her  younger  child  only  a  transitory  grief.  Her 
facile  nature  shed  sorrow  easily,  and  in  less  than 
a  fortnight  after  the  funeral  she  was  singing  about 
the  house  and  admiring  the  contrast  of  her  black 
dress  and  clear  complexion  before  the  long  mirror 
in  the  parlor. 

Julia,  on  the  other  hand,  grew  wan  and  hag- 
gard under  the  frightful  loneliness  of  bereave- 
ment. She  had  loved  her  mother  with  a  deep, 
passionate  affection  that  was  fed  rather  than 
quenched  by  the  knowledge  that  she  was  not  the 
best-beloved  daughter.  She  was  not  as  pretty  as 
her  sister,  although  the  thoughtful  observer  would 
have  found  her  face  more  attractive  than  her 
sister's  doll-like  beauty.  Her  dark  hair  grew  low 
over  her  broad  forehead,  and  her  gray  eyes  had 
depth  and  seriousness.  Caryl  was  very  pretty; 
Julia  was  almost  handsome. 

It  was  upon  the  latter  that  the  burden  of  sorrow 
fell  when  her  mother  closed  tired  eyes  upon  a 
world  that  held  nothing  for  her  but  her  children. 
The  husband's  grief  was  of  the  stormy  kind  that 


4  The  Two  Sisters 

shows  itself  in  lamentations  and  self-pity,  and  in- 
terferes neither  with  appetite  nor  sleep.  Caryl 
sobbed  wildly  through  one  whole  night,  and  there- 
after slumbered  as  calmly  and  unbrokenly  as  ever. 

Mrs.  Marvin  had  died  in  early  September. 
On  the  first  day  of  the  New  Year  James  Marvin 
married  again.  His  second  wife  was  as  strong 
and  inflexible  of  will  as  he  was  weak  and  unstable. 
Even  before  his  remarriage  his  daughters  had 
formed  a  dislike  for  the  woman  who  was  destined 
to  take  the  place  that  had  been  their  mother's. 

Their  father  brought  their  stepmother  directly 
home  from  the  parsonage  where  the  pair  had  been 
made  one — and  a  new  regimen  set  in.  The  self- 
seeking  New  England  woman  made  no  effort  to 
alter  Julia's  and  Caryl's  sentiments  toward  her. 

For  a  time  their  father  tried  feebly  and  fitfully 
to  keep  things  smooth  between  the  warring  ele- 
ments in  his  household.  Then  he  gave  up  the 
effort  and  threw  his  weak  influence  on  the  side  of 
his  domineering  wife.  It  was  more  uncomfort- 
able to  incur  her  displeasure  than  to  go  counter 
to  his  daughters'  whims  and  desires,  and  he  took 
the  line  of  the  least  resistance. 

The  two  girls  drew  closer  together  in  the 
months  that  followed  upon  their  father's  second 
matrimonial  venture  and  supported  each  other 
vehemently  in  the  open  disputes  and  altercations 


The  Decision  5 

/ 

that  came  to  be  a  part  of  their  daily  life.  The 
breach  widened  and  deepened  day  by  day  and  the 
climax  was  reached  one  morning  early  in  April 
when  the  members  of  the  household  were  gathered 
about  the  breakfast  table.  Marvin,  ill  at  ease  as 
was  his  habit  when  in  the  company  of  his  daugh- 
ters; the  two  girls  silent,  and  Mrs.  Marvin  hot 
and  fuming  from  her  preparation  of  the  morning 
meal  over  the  kitchen  range. 

The  man  was  visibly  more  nervous  than  usual 
and  after  a  prolonged  silence  cleared  his  throat, 
glanced  uneasily  at  his  stern-faced  wife,  and  spoke. 

"Girls,  I  don't  like  it  that  your  mother 

should "  he  began,  then  paused.  For  Caryl 

had  made  a  wry  face  at  his  use  of  the  title 
"mother."  He  saw  it,  flushed,  hesitated,  and,  with 
an  effort,  spoke  more  firmly. 

"Remember  that  you're  at  my  table,  girls  I"  he 
reprimanded.  "What  I  want  to  say  is  that  I'm 
not  going  to  have  your  mother  doing  all  the  work 
of  this  house  while  you  two  fritter  away  your 
time  in  school.  And  what  I  say,  I  mean." 

Julia  had  been  sitting  silent,  her  eyes  downcast, 
apparently  absorbed  in  her  own  meditations.  She 
had  acquired  self-control  during  the  months  of 
unhappiness,  but  she  looked  at  her  father  now  with 
an  expression  of  surprise  mingled  with  disappoint- 
ment. 


6  The  Two  Sisters 

"You  mean  that  you  are  not  willing  to  have  me 
remain  at  school  and  graduate?"  she  asked  slowly. 

The  man  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  met  his 
wife's  stern  gaze  and  cleared  his  throat  again. 

"Yes,  that's  it,"  he  acknowledged  awkwardly. 
"I've  been  talking  the  matter  over  with — your 
mother."  There  was  defiance  in  the  emphasis  he 
placed  on  this  last  word.  The  girl  started  to 
speak,  but  checked  the  impulse.  "We  have  de- 
cided," the  man  went  on,  "that  it's  time  that  you 
and  Caryl  were  helping  her  a  little  and  doing 
something  toward  earning  your  own  living." 

Caryl  spoke  quickly.  "Then  I  won't  have  to 
go  to  high  school  at  all?"  she  asked.  There  was 
a  note  of  hope  or  relief  in  her  tone,  and  her  sister, 
hearing  it,  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"Caryl,"  she  protested,  "it's  bad  enough  for 
me  to  have  to  leave  school  before  my  graduation 
and  before  the  education  I  expected  to  have  is 
nearly  completed.  But  as  for  you,  you  ought  to 
stay  long  enough  at  least  to " 

The  stepmother  interposed  impatiently,  hard 
lines  about  her  lips. 

"There  you  go  again!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
are  just  proving,  Julia,  the  truth  of  what  I  said 
last  night  and  this  morning  about  you  and  your 
high-falutin  notions.  I  have  slaved  for  you  girls 
all  that  I'm  going  to  slave.  If  you  don't  like  the 


The  Decision  7 

way  you're  treated  here,  suppose  you  go  some- 
where else  and  try  supporting  yourself,  and  see 
how  you  like  the  change  1" 

The  elder  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  dark 
color  flooding  her  usually  pale  face. 

"When  my  own  mother  was  alive "  she  be- 
gan passionately,  but  her  father  interrupted  her. 

"Now,  Julia,"  he  warned  nervously,  "don't  say 
anything  you'll  be  sorry  for!  You're  very  unrea- 
sonable nowadays.  You  don't  show  any  apprecia- 
tion of  what's  being  done  for  you  all  the  time.  It 
oughtn't  to  be  a  hardship  to  you  and  Caryl  to 
take  care  of  yourselves  from  now  on.  Lots  of 
girls  of  the  age  of  you  two  are  earning  their  own 
livings.  If  your  mother  and  I  felt  that  we  could 
afford  to  keep  you  in  school  longer  we  might " 

"It's  not  a  question  of  what  we  can  afford !"  the 
wife  broke  in  sharply,  her  black  eyes  snapping. 
"I  simply  say  that  they've  got  to  work  as  long  as 
I  remain  in  this  house.  I  am  mistress  here,  and 
I'll  have  you  all  remember  that  fact!" 

"You  needn't  bother  to  remind  us  of  it!"  ex- 
claimed Caryl,  pushing  her  chair  back  from  the 
table  and  starting  for  the  door.  "If  I  had  my 
way  I  wouldn't  stay  another  night  under  the  roof! 
I  hate  you!"  With  which  parting  outburst  she 
fled  sobbing  from  the  room. 

"You  couldn't  please  me  better  than  by  getting 


8  The  Two  Sisters 

from  under  this  roof!"  her  stepmother  called 
after  her,  her  face  crimson,  her  lips  twitching. 

Julia,  as  she  heard  the  challenge,  felt  the  hot 
tide  of  rage  throbbing  in  her  throat,  and  with  an 
effort  steadied  her  voice. 

"Father,"  she  said,  her  forced  calmness  mak- 
ing her  speak  with  unnatural  deliberation,  "since 
you  and — your  wife  feel  that  you  cannot  support 
Caryl  and  me  any  longer,  and  since  you  would  be 
glad  to  be  rid  of  us,  we  will  go  away  and  relieve 
you  of  the  burden  of  taking  care  of  your  own 
children.  We  shall  be  as  glad  to  leave  you  as  you 
vill  be  to  have  us  go." 

Her  father's  resentment  flared  into  the  puny 
rage  of  a  weak  man. 

"Go,  then,  and  good  riddance  to  you  both !"  he 
burst  forth  shrilly.  "I'm  sick  to  death  of  your 
spats  and  fights  day  and  night,  but  if  you  leave 
my  house  don't  you  come  back  on  me  for  sup- 
port !  You  won't  get  it,  you  ungrateful  hussy !" 

Pale  to  the  lips,  the  girl  turned  and  went  up- 
stairs. 

An  hour  later  James  Marvin  knocked  at  the 
door  of  his  daughters'  room  and  entered.  Caryl 
stood  at  the  mirror  arranging  a  new  hair  ribbon 
about  her  yellow  curls.  Julia  sat  on  the  bed.  Her 
eyes  were  red,  and  in  her  left  hand  she  held 
clenched  a  crumpled  handkerchief,  while  in  her 


The  Decision  9 

right  hand  was  a  cheap  little  photograph  which 
her  father  recognized.  He  prefaced  his  remarks 
with  the  customary  clearing  of  his  throat. 

"Girls,"  he  announced,  "I  was  a  little  out  of 
patience  this  morning,  and  I  said  some  things  that 
perhaps  I  oughtn't  to  have  said.  I've  come  up 
now  to  tell  you  that  I'll  be  willing  to  have  you 
stay  on  here  with  us  if  you'll  do  your  share 
toward  helping  with  the  housework  and  with  the 
family  income.  I  can't  have  you  go  away  and 
people  saying  that  my  daughters  won't  live  with 
me." 

He  tried  to  smile,  but  failed.  Julia  looked  at 
him  so  gravely  and  steadily  that  he  shifted  his 
feet  uneasily,  and  his  pale  eyes  wandered  about 
the  room  avoiding  her  stern  gaze. 

"There  were  some  things  said  this  morning," 
she  answered,  in  an  even  voice,  "that  neither  Caryl 
nor  I  can  forget.  We  will  not  put  you  to  the 
bother  of  caring  for  us  any  longer.  Since  you 
evidently  fear  what  the  neighbors  will  say  about 
you  and  your  wife — since  you  are  afraid  to  have 
them  know  the  truth — I  will  tell  you  that  we  are 
going  to  New  York  to  work.  You  can  say  this 
to  any  inquirers,  then  there  will  be  no  opportunity 
for  gossip." 

"You're  not  treating  me  and  your  mother 
fairly,"  protested  Marvin. 


io  The  Two  Sisters 

The  girl's  calm  eyes  fell  to  the  photograph  she 
held,  and  rested  there  for  a  long  moment.  When 
she  raised  them  again  to  her  father's  face  the  ex- 
pression he  saw  in  them  made  him  leave  the  room, 
slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

All  through  the  morning  the  two  sisters  dis- 
cussed their  plans  for  the  future.  That  they 
would  go  to  New  York  was  a  decision  that  neither 
of  them  thought  of  reconsidering.  Caryl  was  in 
a  flutter  of  joy  at  the  prospect  of  life  in  the 
great  city,  and  Julia,  although  older  and  graver, 
felt  a  thrill  of  pleasant  anticipation  at  the  thought 
of  being  her  own  mistress. 

"It  will  be  perfectly  lovely!"  gushed  Caryl. 
"We  will  make  our  living  and  spend  our  money 
as  we  please.  Think  of  the  gorgeous  times  we  will 
have  together  in  New  York!  We  are  sure  to 
meet  lots  of  pleasant  people.  New  York  men 
who  come  up  here  on  business  always  look  so 
well-groomed  and  nice,  and  then  there  are  the 
shops  and  the  theaters,  and  we  will  have  our  own 
little  apartment." 

To  her,  leaving  home  meant  the  right  to  do  as 
she  pleased,  to  spend  the  money  which  she  was  to 
make  (of  course,  she  would  make  it  without 
trouble !) — upon  the  luxuries  that  had  always  been 
denied  her.  She  would  meet  charming  men,  and, 
finally,  with  one  of  them  she  would  enter  into  that 


The  Decision  n 

state  of  liberty  of  mind  and  body — where  one  is 
supported  and  adored — which  the  average  girl  of 
her  class  believes  matrimony  to  be. 

Julia  smiled  tolerantly  at  her  little  sister's  rhap- 
sodies, yet  enthusiasm  is  contagious,  and  she  could 
not  help  feeling  that  New  York  would  be  in  every 
way  a  great  improvement  upon  the  provincial 
New  England  town  in  which  she  had  always  lived. 

"But    this    change    means  hard    work,"    she 
warned,  "harder  work  than  you  have  ever  done  in 
all  your  life,  Caryl." 

"As  if  I  minded  that !"  scoffed  Caryl.  "I  won't 
object  to  work  there,  for  I  will  be  earning  money." 

"What  kind  of  work  are  you  going  to  do?" 
queried  Julia. 

The  question  staggered  the  younger  girl,  but 
only  for  a  moment. 

"Do?  Why,  I'll  be  a  stenographer,"  she  re- 
plied. "They  get  good  salaries  and  the  work  is 
not  hard." 

Julia  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  "You  will 
have  to  learn  the  work  first,"  she  said.  "It  takes 
time  and  practice  to  learn  stenography  and  type- 
writing, and  it's  expensive.  It  will  take  quite  a 
bit  of  money." 

"I'll  learn  all  right,"  prophesied  the  girl  con- 
fidently. "I'll  go  to  some  business  school  and  then 


12  The  Two  Sisters 

it  will  be  easy  to  get  a  job.  I've  money  enough 
to  learn  all  that's  necessary." 

To  Caryl  the  four  hundred  dollars  which  she 
and  Julia  had  in  the  savings  bank  seemed  a  for- 
tune, and  even  her  more  practical  sister  thought 
with  a  glow  of  satisfaction  that  they  would  go  to 
the  city  with  ample  funds  to  maintain  them  until 
they  could  get  work  that  would  enable  them  to 
support  themselves  even  if  they  did  not  get  such 
work  immediately. 

That  evening  before  supper,  as  James  Marvin 
was  passing  through  the  upper  hall  of  his  home, 
his  daughters'  door  opened  and  Julia  spoke  to 
him. 

"Would  you  mind  coming  in  here  for  a  moment, 
father?"  she  asked.  "There  is  a  little  matter  we 
wish  to  talk  to  you  about." 

As  he  followed  her  suggestion  he  saw  that  a 
trunk  that  had  belonged  to  his  first  wife  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  Caryl  knelt  before  it 
packing  in  it  the  last  of  her  belongings. 

"Since  we  are  going  away,"  said  Julia,  without 
further  preliminary,  "Caryl  and  I  think  that  the 
sooner  we  start  the  better.  What  we  want  to  ask 
you  is  that,  since  the  money  we  have  in  the  bank 
is  deposited  in  your  name  in  trust  for  us,  you  will 
please  draw  it  out  for  us  to-morrow  morning." 

James  Marvin  caught  his  breath.     He  had  not 


The  Decision  13 

thought  that  matters  would  come  to  this  pass  so 
soon.  Had  his  daughters  wept  and  moaned  he 
would  have  known  better  how  to  deal  with  them. 
In  the  face  of  their  calm  determination  he  was 
strangely  embarrassed. 

"Now,  girls,"  he  protested  weakly,  "don't  be 
hasty  about  this.  Your  mother — I  mean  my  wife 
— and  I  don't  feel  that  it  is  right  that  you  should 
go  off  with  hard  feelings  between  us.  Take  a 
week  or  so  to  think  it  over." 

"We  couldn't  think  it  over  more  if  we  waited 
for  a  year,  father,"  answered  Julia  firmly.  "We 
are  going  to-morrow  afternoon.  Will  you  get 
the  money  for  us  in  the  morning?" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  man,  "it's  yours,  and  I'm 
willing  to  draw  it  out  for  you  whenever  you  want 
it.  But,  see  here,  I  hate  to  have  you  go  like  this. 
Let  bygones  be  bygones  and  let's  make  up,  and 
you  stay  on  here  and  get  work  if  you  want  to. 
You'll  be  lots  more  comfortable  than  you  would 
in  a  strange  place.  I'll  make  it  all  right  with 
your  mother,  and  she'll  be  willing  to  make  another 
try  at  our  living  here  together." 

The  regret  in  his  tone  was  so  genuine  that  for 
a  moment  Julia  hesitated,  but  Caryl  forestalled 
any  compromise  her  sister  might  have  contem- 
plated. 

"Upon  my  word,  father,"  she  exclaimed,  "to 


14  The  Two  Sisters 

hear  you  talk  anyone  would  think  that  we  were 
going  away  of  our  own  accord!  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  it's  that  wife  of  yours  who's 
driving  us  from  home,  that  she  said  she'd  be  glad 
to  have  us  go !  Perhaps  you  think  that  all  this  is 
only  a  whim  of  ours — this  going  away  to  New 
York.  But  it  isn't!"  Then,  her  anger  rising  as 
she  talked,  she  burst  forth  with  a  violence  that 
surprised  her  father  and  sister.  "I'd  rather  go 
to  jail  than  live  with  that  woman  any  longer! 
That's  all  there  is  to  it!" 

Her  sharp  tongue  had  banished  the  last  chance 
of  reconciliation.  Julia  saw  her  father's  eyes 
narrow  and  his  face  flush. 

"If  you  think  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  stay,  you 
ungrateful  piece,"  he  blustered,  "you're  much 
mistaken!  If  you  want  to  go,  then  go!  I'm 
through  with  you.  Maybe  I'll  have  a  little  com- 
fort with  you  out  of  the  house.  Julia,  I'll  draw 
that  money  for  you  in  the  morning." 

He  hurried  out  of  the  room,  and  Caryl  laughed 
with  relief  as  she  looked  into  her  sister's  per- 
turbed countenance. 

"I  thought  I  would  make  him  let  us  go  I"  she 
said  lightly. 


II 

THE  BEGINNING 

WHEN  there  was  anything  practical  to  be  done 
by  the  Marvin  sisters  it  was  Julia  who  took  the 
initiative.  It  was  she,  therefore,  who,  after  mak- 
ing inquiries  of  a  friend  who  had  worked  at  one 
time  in  New  York,  decided  to  send  a  special  de- 
livery to  a  certain  home  in  the  great  city,  asking 
for  accommodations  for  Caryl  and  herself  until 
they  could  secure  work  and  a  permanent  abiding 
place. 

The  address  of  this  temporary  abode  was  in 
Julia's  little  handbag,  and  she  referred  to  it  as  she 
and  Caryl  emerged  from  Grand  Central  Station  on 
the  afternoon  on  which  the  pair  reached  New 
York.  This  same  address  had  been  given  to  the 
"baggage-express  man"  who  had  passed  through 
the  train,  and  he  had  promised  to  try  to  get  their 
trunk  to  their  room  that  same  evening. 

"I  know,"  said  Julia,  hesitatingly,  "that  there 
is  a  line  of  cars  here  which  will  take  us  down- 
town. Oh,  I  wish  I  knew  more  about  New  York!" 


1 6  The  Two  Sisters 

"Well,  as  you  don't,"  proposed  Caryl, 
"wouldn't  it  be  well  to  be  on  the  safe  side  and 
hire  a  cab?  Let's  see,  this  is  Forty-second  Street, 
isn't  it?" 

She  looked  about  her  curiously,  but  not  timidly. 
To  her  the  whole  journey  and  all  that  lay  beyond 
it  seemed  an  exciting  adventure. 

"Why  not?"  she  mused,  "for  in  New  York  peo- 
ple make  money  very  fast." 

Julia's  voice  broke  in  upon  her  fancies.  "Clara 
Dayton  told  me  to  take  the  Madison  Avenue  car 
down  to  Twenty-third  Street,  then  to  w,alk  down 
to  the  home,"  she  said.  "Come  on,  dear,  we  can't 
stand  here  staring  any  longer.  We  must  make  the 
plunge." 

Guided  by  a  kindly  policeman,  the  girls  crossed 
the  street,  but  when  they  had  reached  the  opposite 
sidewalk  and  a  taxicab  driver  held  up  his  finger 
inquiringly,  Caryl  grasped  her  sister's  arm  sud- 
denly. 

"See  there,  Julia !"  she  exclaimed.  "There's 
one  of  those  cabs  that  we've  heard  so  much  about! 
I  want  to  take  it.  Do  let's  get  in  it!" 

But  Julia  shook  her  head  and  started  on.  "Not 
that  one,  Caryl,"  she  replied  hastily.  "Come 
ahead  with  me  and  I'll  explain."  And,  as  the 
other  obeyed  reluctantly,  Julia  told  her  that  she 
had  been  warned  that  it  was  not  safe  for  a  young 


The  Beginning  17 

woman  to  get  into  any  cab  that  she  might  chance 
to  meet. 

"Some  of  those  drivers  are  employed  by  bad 
people,"  she  said.  "I  have  heard  that  they  lure 
young  women  away  to  dreadful  places.  Clara 
Dayton  told  me  so,  and  said  that  if  I  ever  was  ill, 
or  anything  like  that,  and  needed  a  cab,  to  go  to  a 
regular  stand  for  one." 

Caryl  laughed  contemptuously.  "Ridiculous!" 
she  declared.  "As  if  two  grown-ups  could  be 
fooled  as  a  pair  of  silly  children  might  be !  At 
any  rate,  I'm  going  to  have  my  own  way  about 
the  matter,  so  you  may  as  well  look  up  a  cab-stand 
now,  for  I  mean  to  ride  downtown  in  something 
besides  a  common  old  street  car." 

They  had  not  far  to  look,  for  a  row  of  taxis 
standing  at  the  side  of  a  hotel  had  caught  Caryl's 
eye  and  she  piloted  her  sister  toward  one  of  these. 

"What  will  it  cost  to  take  us  to  this  place?" 
asked  Julia,  showing  the  man  the  card  bearing  the 
address  which  was  her  destination. 

"That  depends  on  how  many  miles  it  is,"  he 
replied.  "The  indicator  there  will  show  you  how 
far  you've  gone  when  we  stop." 

"But  can't  you  give  us  any  idea  of  the  price?" 
began  Julia,  but  Caryl  jumped  into  the  cab  and 
seated  herself. 

"Oh,   come   on!"    she   called   gaily.      "Don't 


1 8  The  Two  Sisters 

bother  about  the  expense.  We've  got  money 
enough  to  blow  in  on  a  ride  now  and  then  I 
guess!" 

Her  tones  rang  out  clearly,  and  the  chauffeur 
grinned  as  he  took  his  seat.  A  man  passing 
paused,  looked  at  the  girls,  lifted  his  hat  and 
smiled.  Caryl  flushed  brightly,  but  laughed.  As 
the  cab  started  Julia  turned  upon  her  sharply. 

"We  may  as  well  begin  as  we  mean  to  keep  on, 
Caryl,"  she  warned  her,  "and  as  I  am  older  than 
you  I  have  a  right  to  insist  that  you  do  not  behave 
in  this  way  any  more.  In  the  first  place,  this  is 
an  extravagance,  and  it's  wrong  for  us  to  set  a 
pace  that  we  cannot  keep." 

Caryl  pouted.  "Half  of  what  the  cab  costs  will 
be  paid  by  me,"  she  reminded  her  companion.  "So 
you  need  not  talk  as  if  you  were  paying  for  every- 
thing, or  for  more  than  your  share.  And  this  one 
ride  isn't  going  to  make  or  break  either  of  us — 
so  why  not  enjoy  it?  Come,  Julia,  don't  be 
cross!" 

She  laid  her  hand  on  her  sister's  arm,  and  the 
older  girl  spoke  more  gently. 

"I'm  not  cross,  sis,"  she  replied.  "But  you  do 
not  appreciate  how  indiscreet  you  are,  and  it  star- 
tled me  to  see  that  man  speak  to  us  just  now.  If 
you  hadn't  raised  your  voice  as  you  did  he 
wouldn't  have  noticed  us.  You  must  be  more 


The  Beginning  19 

careful,  for  you  don't  know  anything  about  the 
kind  of  men  you  may  meet  here  in  a  strange  city." 

But  the  younger  girl  only  laughed  at  her  sis- 
ter's anxiety.  "Poor  Julia !"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  do  take  things  so  hard!  You  say  that  we 
may  as  well  begin  as  we  mean  to  go  on.  Very 
well,  I  agree  with  you  there.  The  way  I  mean  to 
go  on  is  to  get  all  the  fun  I  can  out  of  life.  If  a 
man  lifts  his  hat  just  because  I  happen  to  speak  a 
little  loudly  I  can't  help  it.  So  don't  get  peeved 
over  such  small  things.  Let's  have  a  good  time 
together  in  spite  of  father,  stepmother,  and  work. 
Do  let's  be  sensible!" 

"That's  what  I'm  trying  to  be,"  said  the  other 
gravely. 

"Being  sensible  isn't  looking  as  solemn  as  you 
do  now,"  teased  Caryl.  "Please  smile !" 

And,  gazing  into  the  merry  eyes,  the  older  sis- 
ter smiled  in  spite  of  vague  misgivings. 

Julia  Marvin  lost  no  time  in  seeking  work. 
She  had  hoped  at  first  to  get  a  position  in  one  of 
the  fashionable  stores,  but  found  that  this  was 
not  as  easy  as  she  had  supposed.  She  had  had  no 
experience  and  knew  nobody  in  New  York  to 
whom  she  could  refer  as  to  her  honesty  and 
ability. 

She  decided  that  she  would  write  to  her  home 


2O  The  Two  Sisters 

town  for  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  the 
clergyman  whose  church  she  always  attended,  and, 
armed  with  his  reply  to  her  request,  she  sought 
out  a  large  department  store  which  was  not 
counted  among  the  "swell  emporiums"  of  the  city. 

Here  she  was  given  an  application  to  fill  in, 
and  after  a  day  or  two  of  waiting  she  received 
the  comforting  news  that  there  would  be  a  vacancy 
which  she  might  take  the  next  week.  The  salary 
at  first  would  be  ten  dollars  and  a  half,  paid 
every  half  month — in  other  words,  only  twenty- 
one  dollars  a  month — besides  which  she  would 
receive  a  commission  of  one  cent  on  every  dollar's 
worth  she  sold. 

"What  starvation  pay!"  exclaimed  Caryl  when 
she  heard  this.  "And  in  such  a  common  store, 
too !  You're  a  chump  to  take  such  a  place." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you!"  retorted  Julia. 
"Baird's  is,  at  least,  a  respectable  store,  and  I 
have  to  begin  on  a  little  wherever  I  go." 

"Well,"  declared  Caryl,  "I  wouldn't  work  in  a 
store,  but  if  I  did  I  would  choose  one  where  I 
could  see  all  the  gorgeously  dressed  people  com- 
ing in  and  out.  Oh,"  with  a  sigh,  "things  aren't 
fair  in  this  world,  anyway.  Look  at  all  the  stun- 
ning clothes  some  people  have,  and  here  we  are 
— you,  with  a  poor  little  job  in  prospect,  and  me 
trying  to  get  ready  to  go  to  work." 


The  Beginning  21 

"It's  time  you  began,  dear,"  Julia  reminded 
her.  "We  have  been  here  for  almost  a  fortnight 
and  you  have  done  nothing  except  walk  about  and 
look  in  the  shop  windows." 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  see  a  little  of  the  city  be- 
fore settling  down,"  Caryl  explained.  "As  it  is, 
we  haven't  been  anywhere  in  the  evenings,  but 
have  just  sat  cooped  up  here  in  this  room  read- 
ing." 

"That  is  where  we  ought  to  have  stayed,"  re- 
plied Julia.  "Our  time  in  this  house  will  be  up 
soon  and  I  must  look  around  again  for  other 
quarters.  I  haven't  seen  a  thing  I  like  yet.  The 
cheap  places  are  so  dirty!" 

Caryl  shuddered.  "They're  dreadful!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I  don't  see  why  you  need  be  so  stingy, 
Julia.  We  have  our  money  from  the  bank  besides 
what  we  may  earn." 

Julia  looked  grave.  "See  here,  Caryl,"  she 
said,  "our  fare  to  New  York,  the  transferring  of 
our  baggage,  the  car  fares  since  we  have  been 
here  and  our  board  and  room  have  taken  a  good 
bit  of  that  money." 

"And  we  have  nothing  to  show  for  it!"  inter- 
rupted the  other. 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,"  con- 
tinued Julia.  "I  want  you  to  remember  that  you 
have  to  pay  for  your  lessons  in  stenography,  if 


22  The  Two  Sisters 

you  still  insist  that  that  is  the  kind  of  work  you 
want  to  do." 

She  paused  hopefully,  but  Caryl  only  nodded 
affirmation  of  the  statement,  and  the  sister  hur- 
ried on. 

"You  must  begin  at  once  on  your  lessons  and 
lay  aside  now  the  price  of  these.  Then  you  will 
have  to  live  on  what  money  will  be  left  and  what 
I  can  make.  Think  of  that,  please." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  support  me!"  Caryl  re- 
sented. "It's  not  kind  of  you  to  say  you'll  have 
to  do  it." 

"Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 
You  might,  of  course,  get  work  in  a  store,  and  go 
to  night  school  for  your  lessons,  but  that  would 
be  pretty  hard  for  you." 

The  younger  girl  shook  her  head.  "I  just  will 
not  be  a  common  shop  girl!"  she  insisted.  Then, 
starting  to  her  feet,  she  began  putting  on  her  hat. 

"Come  on!"  she  said,  "let's  go  up  to  that  busi- 
ness college  you  heard  of  and  make  our  plans. 
After  that's  done,  we'll  look  for  a  decent  room. 
The  thought  of  the  kind  we've  seen  makes  me 
sick." 

Without  a  word  the  older  girl  got  ready  for 
the  expedition.  Caryl's  ill-temper  was  short- 
lived, and  had  vanished  before  her  interview  with 
the  head  of  the  business  school  to  which  their 


The  Beginning  23 

steps  had  been  directed.  At  the  end  of  five  min- 
utes' talk  she  had  engaged  to  take  a  six  months' 
course  in  stenography,  for  which  she  was  to  pay 
sixty  dollars,  in  four  installments — the  first  on 
admission  to  the  school. 

"I  shall  begin  next  week  when  you  go  to  work," 
she  informed  her  sister  on  their  way  downtown. 
"You  see,  when  I  have  laid  aside  my  money  for 
my  lessons,  I  will  still  have  somewhere  around  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  left." 

Her  sister  forebore  to  ask  her  how  she  ex- 
pected to  live  and  dress  for  a  half  year  on  that. 
What  was  the  use?  No  matter  what  she  said  it 
would  end  in  the  older  girl's  helping  the  younger 
one.  She  had  always  done  this  since  Caryl  was  a 
baby. 

It  was  to  please  Caryl  that  she  at  last  took  a 
room  for  which  they  must  pay  more  than  she  felt 
was  prudent.  It  was  on  West  Twenty-second 
Street,  up  two  flights  of  stairs.  It  was  of  a  fair 
size,  steam-heated  in  winter,  and  there  was  a  sink 
with  running  water  in  the  hall  outside  the  door. 

"We  can  prepare  our  breakfasts  here,  I  sup- 
pose?" asked  Julia  of  the  landlady,  who  showed 
them  the  room. 

"Well,  yes,"  she  answered,  "if  you  don't  make 
any  mess.  That  is,  you  can  boil  a  little  coffee  over 
an  alcohol  lamp.  Or,  if  you  are  nice  quiet  lodgers, 


24  The  Two  Sisters 

you  might  sometimes  run  into  my  kitchen  to  make 
your  coffee." 

"Oh,  thank  you !"  said  Julia.  "And  is  there  a 
restaurant  near  here?" 

"There's  a  good  eating  place  on  the  next  block," 
said  the  woman.  "You  can  get  a  meal  ticket  for 
two  meals  a  day  at  three  and  a  half  a  week.  But 
I  guess  you'll  lunch  where  you  work.  Most  young 
ladies  do." 

"Well,"  mused  Caryl,  as  they  walked  east  on 
Twenty-second  Street,  "it  isn't  much  of  a  place, 
but  I  suppose  it's  the  best  we  can  do  on  the  money 
we  have." 

"It's  better  than  we  can  really  afford  to  do," 
returned  Julia.  Then,  as  she  saw  the  cloud  of 
discontent  gathering  on  her  sister's  brow,  she 
turned  the  conversation  into  other  channels. 

Julia  and  Caryl  Marvin  walked  along  in  si- 
lence for  some  blocks  after  leaving  the  house  in 
which  they  had  just  rented  a  room.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  and  street  lights  and  electric  signs 
were  beginning  to  combat  the  gathering  gloom. 

At  Broadway,  as  they  turned  south  toward 
their  present  home,  the  roar  of  late  afternoon 
traffic  made  speech  impossible.  Motor  cars 
threaded  their  way  through  the  shifting  confusion 
of  trucks,  buses  and  trolleys;  brightly  illumined 
windows  displayed  articles  from  all  corners  of 


The  Beginning  25 

the  globe;  far  up  Broadway  a  pulsating  electric 
sign  proclaimed  persistently  the  name  of  the  latest 
theatrical  success.  Daintily  gowned  women 
passed  accompanied  by  well  groomed  men,  and 
scraps  of  conversation  and  an  occasional  laugh 
mingled  with  the  clatter  of  vehicles  and  the  never 
ceasing  roar  of  the  city.  The  girls  passed  through 
the  crowd  and  at  last  turned  into  a  dingy  side 
street  that  seemed  dark  and  quiet  after  the  noise 
and  glitter  of  the  city's  greatest  thoroughfare. 
Caryl  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence  between 
herself  and  her  sister. 

"I  think  it's  all  horrid!"  she  announced  sud- 
denly. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  demanded  Julia. 
She  spoke  sharply,  for  she  was  hungry  and  tired, 
and  her  feet  ached  from  much  walking.  She  was 
finding  it  difficult  to  lend  a  uniformly  sympathetic 
ear  to  th£  younger  girl's  many  complaints. 

"This  life  we  are  leading,"  Caryl  replied  pet- 
tishly. "We  are  having  a  stupider  time  here  than 
we  did  in  our  own  little  town.  I  am  beginning  to 
hate  New  York.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  was  back  at 
home!" 

"Caryl  Marvin!"  Julia  exclaimed,  halting  in 
amazement.  "You  don't  mean  that." 

"Yes,  I  do!"  retorted  Caryl,  "and  if  I  think 
New  York  is  horrid  it  is  all  your  fault.  Here  we 


26  The  Two  Sisters 

are  with  plenty  of  money  and  we  live  in  a  place 
that's  about  as  exciting  as  a  church.  We  haven't 
been  to  the  theater  since  we  came  here.  Then, 
when  we  decide  to  move,  you  take  a  nasty  old 
room  in  a  mean  old  street  in  a  house  that  smells  of 
cabbage  and  stale  dinners.  Why  can't  we  have  a 
little  fun,  even  if  we  do  have  to  earn  our  own 
living?" 

Julia  laid  her  hand  on  her  sister's  arm,  and  the 
two  resumed  their  walk.  It  was  several  moments 
before  the  older  girl  could  trust  herself  to  speak. 

"I  am  sorry  you  feel  as  you  do,  Caryl,"  she 
said  at  last.  "I  thought  we  understood  each  other 
thoroughly  when  we  came  here.  I  came  to  make 
my  own  living.  You  evidently  came  for  a  vaca- 
tion. If  you  would  consider  the  fact  that  when 
your  money  is  gone  I  shall  have  to  support  you 
until  you  are  able  to  take  a  position,  you  might 
not  feel  as  you  do  about  my  economizing.  As  to 
your  being  tired  of  New  York  already — I  don't 
know  what  I  can  do  to  help  that.  I  certainly  am 
not  going  to  consent  to  your  spending  the  little 
money  you  possess  in  having  a  good  time.  You 
might  write  to  father  and  see  if  he  will  let  you 
come  home." 

Caryl  shook  off  Julia's  grasp  upon  her  arm  and 
again  came  to  a  standstill. 

"I  can't  do  that,  and  you  know  that  I  can't," 


The  Beginning  27 

she  muttered  rebelliously,  tears  coming  to  her 
eyes. 

"We  won't  gain  anything  by  standing  here  on 
the  street  arguing  about  it,"  replied  her  sister,  her 
voice  cold  and  hard.  "Come  on  home,  and,  if 
you  insist  upon  continuing  this  discussion,  we  can 
do- so  there  in  the  privacy  of  our  own  room." 

She  walked  ahead,  her  cheeks  flushed,  angry 
words  trembling  on  her  lips.  Caryl  followed,  a 
few  paces  behind  her.  Tears  of  loneliness  and 
discouragement  half  blinded  the  older  girl  as  she 
reached  the  avenue  beyond  which  lay  their  des- 
tination. "I  can't  stand  this  kind  of  thing!  It 
isn't  fair!"  she  whispered  over  and  over  to  her- 
self. She  collided  with  some  one  on  the  curb, 
but  was  too  deeply  immersed  in  her  own  unhappy 
thoughts  to  pause  to  apologize. 

She  was  half-way  across  the  avenue  when  the 
sudden  bleat  of  an  automobile  horn  and  a  shrill 
scream  behind  her  made  her  gasp  with  terror. 
She  turned  so  quickly  that  the  speeding  taxicab 
brushed  her  skirts  and  the  driver  shouted  an  oath 
at  her — but  she  did  not  heed  it. 

For  on  the  curb  she  had  just  left  stood  Caryl, 
supported  by  a  tall  man  in  a  gray  overcoat.  Julia 
sprang  toward  them. 

"Oh,  Caryl!"  she  cried,  "are  you  hurt?" 

The  man  smiled  reassuringly  and  lifted  his  hat. 


28  The  Two  Sisters 

"I  think  she  is  only  badly  scared,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly. "I  am  afraid  I  was  a  little  sudden  and 
rough,  but  I  had  to  grab  her  pretty  quick  or  she 
would  have  been  struck." 

"No,  Julia,"  answered  Caryl  unsteadily,  "I  was 
frightened — that's  all.  I  would  have  been  killed 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  gentleman,"  she  added, 
smiling  up  into  her  rescuer's  face. 

"We  are  more  grateful  to  you  than  we  can  ever 
say,"  stammered  Julia. 

The  man  nodded  easily  as  he  released  his  hold 
on  the  younger  girl  and  turned  to  go. 

"Please  don't  be  grateful,"  he  said.  "It  was 
only  my  good  luck  that  you  need  be  thankful  for. 
I'm  glad  I  happened  along  just  in  the  nick  of 
time." 

"But,"  said  Caryl  shyly,  "won't  you  tell  us 
your  name?  We'd  like  to " 

The  man  interrupted  her  with  a  boyish  laugh 
and  shook  his  head. 

"I  did  a  mere  nothing — good  night!"  he  an- 
swered over  his  shoulder  as  he  swung  away  down 
the  avenue. 

The  nausea  of  reaction  was  gripping  Julia  when 
she  reached  the  farther  curb.  She  felt  dizzy  and 
faint,  and  her  heart  sank  under  the  recurring 
thought  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  her. 

"Caryl,   dear,"   she   faltered,   "we'll  go  back 


The  Beginning  29 

home  and  get  work  there.  We'll  go  anywhere 
rather  than  stay  in  this  awful  city." 

Caryl  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  Her  cheeks 
were  glowing  and  her  eyes  bright. 

"Go  away?"  she  repeated.  "Oh,  no!  I  want 
to  stay  in  New  York.  Oh,  Julia — wasn't  he  hand- 
some and — and — lovely?" 


Ill 

MRS.  HALLORAN'S  LODGINGS 

TOWARD  the  end  of  their  second  week  in  New 
York  Julia  and  Caryl  Marvin  packed  their  few 
belongings,  surrendered  their  trunk  to  an  express- 
man who  was  to  take  it  to  their  new  rooms,  and 
said  good-bye  to  the  kind-faced  matron  of  the 
home  at  which  they  had  been  staying. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  you  leave  us,  Miss  Mar- 
vin," this  woman  assured  Julia,  pressing  her  hand 
warmly.  "It  doesn't  seem  right  that  we  are  al- 
lowed to  shelter  the  inexperienced  girls  like  you 
and  your  sister  for  only  a  fortnight,  and  then  let 
them  go  their  lonely  way.  But  with  the  constant 
demands  we  have  made  upon  us  for  rooms  there 
is  nothing  else  that  we  can  do.  Good-bye — and  if 
I  can  help  you  at  any  time,  please  let  me  know." 

To  Caryl,  the  matron  gave  only  a  rather  cool 
handshake  and  a  brief  word  of  farewell.  She  was 
a  woman  who,  by  stilted  and  careful  speech,  tried 
to  conceal  the  deficiencies  in  her  early  education, 
and  she  suspected  the  younger  girl  of  making  fun 
of  her  behind  her  back. 

30 


Mrs.  Halloran's  Lodgings      31 

"She's  a  horrid  cat!"  declared  Caryl  to  her 
sister  as  the  door  of  the  home  closed  behind 
them.  "Thank  heaven  we  are  free  of  her!" 

"Oh,  Caryl,"  Julia  protested,  "she  is  very  kind, 
and  was  always  most  pleasant  to  us." 

"Pleasant!"  sniffed  Caryl.  "She  got  on  my 
nerves — always  snooping  around  to  see  if  we  had 
been  doing  something  we  shouldn't  do!  I  am 
tired  of  having  people  look  after  me." 

She  drew  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth  and 
wrinkled  her  nose  in  imitation  of  the  matron's 
expression  of  countenance.  "  'Young  ladies !' ' 
she  mimicked  in  a  high-pitched  voice,  "  'I  trust 
that  you  are  not  breaking  the  rules  of  the  house 
and  cooking  in  your  room.  I  seem  to  scent  boiling 
coffee.'  " 

The  imitation  was  irresistibly  funny,  and  Julia 
laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Well,  don't  worry  about  her  any  more,  sister, 
dear,"  she  comforted.  "We  are  free  of  her  for- 
ever. We  are  our  own  mistresses  now.  And  I 
don't  know,"  she  went  on  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"that  I  am  as  glad  of  that  as  I  expected  to  be, 
either.  This  city  is  so  big." 

"That's  why  I  like  it,"  asserted  Caryl,  who  was 
to-day  bubbling  over  with  high  spirits.  "It's  so 
big  and  romantic,  and  something  thrilling  may  be 
waiting  for  us  right  around  the  corner.  I  wish  an 


32  The  Two  Sisters 

exciting  adventure  would  come  along  right  here 
and  now." 

Unconsciously  she  began  to  hum  a  merry  little 
tune  as  she  walked.  Her  color  was  high  and  her 
rounded  form  showed  to  advantage  in  her  blue 
serge  dress.  She  was  slender,  yet  not  thin;  she 
had  a  graceful  figure  and  was  aware  of  the  fact. 

The  sisters  stopped  at  a  corner  to  allow  a  car 
to  pass  before  attempting  to  cross  the  street. 

"That's  a  pretty  tune,"  said  a  masculine  voice 
close  by  them. 

Julia  started  at  the  sound.  At  Caryl's  elbow 
stood  a  man.  He  was  well  dressed,  but  wore 
more  jewelry  than  good  taste  would  sanction.  He 
was  smoking,  and,  in  her  momentary  glance,  Julia 
noticed  that  the  hand  he  raised  to  remove  the  cig- 
arette from  his  lips  was  pink-nailed  and  over- 
manicured.  He  lifted  his  hat  to  Caryl  and  smiled. 

"Hello,  girlie!"  he  greeted.  "How's  every- 
thing?" 

Julia  grasped  her  sister's  arm.  "Don't  speak 
to  him!"  she  murmured.  "Come  along!" 

They  hastened  across  the  street,  but  when  they 
reached  the  other  curb  the  man  was  at  the  younger 
girl's  side  again. 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  he  said  calmly.  "I'm  a 
great  little  sticker.  How  about  a  bite  to  eat  for 
just  us  three,  eh?" 


Mrs.  Halloran's  Lodgings      33 

There  was  a  note  in  his  voice  that  made  Julia 
flush  with  anger.  She  turned  sharply  upon  him. 

"Will  you  go  away  and  leave  us  alone?"  she 
asked  hotly.  "Or  shall  I  call  a  policeman?" 

The  man's  swarthy  face  creased  into  a  smile. 
"Old  stuff,  kid !"  he  chided,  "old  stuff !  What  do 
you  think  I  am?  Besides  it's  not  you  I'm  thinking 
about — it's  the  little  queen  that's  walking  with 
you.  If  you  don't  like  me,  why  you  can  step  out." 

Panic-stricken,  the  girls  walked  rapidly  down 
the  street.  Julia  was  white  and  sick  with  a  sud- 
den dread.  Her  knees  seemed  weak,  and  in  her 
palms  she  felt  the  clammy  sweat  of  fear.  Behind 
them  she  and  Caryl  could  hear  the  footsteps  of 
the  man. 

"I'm  a  pretty  good  walker  myself,"  they  heard 
him  announce  once,  loudly. 

For  two  blocks  he  followed  them  while  they, 
with  the  terror  of  hunted  creatures,  almost  ran 
in  their  desire  to  elude  him.  Reaching  Broadway, 
they  plunged  into  the  hurrying  human  tide  flowing 
there  and  did  not  slacken  their  pace  until  they 
were  at  Twenty-second  Street.  Here  they  stopped 
and  looked  back  timidly.  The  man  was  not  to  be 
seen,  but,  even  so,  they  did  not  feel  safe  and  kept 
their  rapid  gait  along  the  several  blocks  that  lay 
between  them  and  their  new  lodging.  It  was  only 
when  they  were  at  last  in  the  front  room  which 


34  The  Two  Sisters 

they  had  engaged  that  they  paused  for  breath. 
Even  here  they  controlled  voices  and  faces  until 
the  landlady,  who  had  escorted  them  upstairs  and 
remained  to  chat  with  them  for  a  minute,  had 
taken  her  departure. 

"Oh!"  gasped  Julia,  when  the  door  had  closed 
behind  the  woman,  "it  was  awful!" 

She  sank  upon  the  bed  and  lay  for  a  moment, 
pale  and  weak. 

"Caryl,"  she  said  slowly  at  last,  pulling  herself 
to  a  sitting  posture,  "you  expressed  yourself  as 
longing  for  an  adventure.  I  hope  you  don't  want 
any  more  of  that  kind."  She  tried  to  smile,  then 
shuddered.  "It  was  horrible  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  certainly  was,"  agreed  Caryl  emphatically, 
sobered  by  the  recent  experience.  "But,"  she 
added  a  few  minutes  later,  her  eyes  sparkling  mis- 
chievously, "you  shouldn't  have  been  frightened, 
Julia,  for  /  was  the  one  that  he  thought  pretty!" 
And  she  laughed  as  she  uttered  the  jest. 

Dusk  had  fallen  on  the  street  outside  of  the 
lodging  house  window  when  Julia  Marvin  at  last 
closed  the  top  of  the  trunk  over  which  she  had 
been  bending,  and  pronounced  her  own  and  Caryl's 
belongings  "all  unpacked." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  that's  done !"  remarked  Caryl 
from  where  she  sat  on  one  of  the  two  inhospitable 
cane-seated  chairs  that  were  a  part  of  the  "fur- 


Mrs.  Halloran's  Lodgings      35 

nishings"  of  their  room.  The  girl  had  been 
seated  thus  for  the  past  half  hour,  watching  her 
sister  get  things  to  rights,  yet  she  heaved  a  deeper 
sigh  than  the  worker  had  emitted  and  repeated  in 
a  voice  indicative  of  intense  relief:  "Yes,  I'm 
glad  that's  done." 

The  older  girl  was  too  dispirited  to  take  um- 
brage at  the  selfish  remark  of  her  lazy  sister.  She 
was  tired,  not  sleepy,  but  worn  out,  more  in  nerves 
than  in  body.  She  still  brooded  on  her  fright  of 
the  afternoon  and  shuddered  afresh  every  time 
that  she  re-lived  mentally  the  distressing  experi- 
ence. Caryl,  lolling — even  in  the  stern,  uncom- 
promising chair — looked  pink-and-white  and 
pretty  as  she  idly  tapped  the  bare  floor  with  her 
shapely  foot  and  hummed  to  herself. 

"I  wish  we  had  a  better  mirror,"  she  com- 
plained. "That  ond  makes  me  feel  as  if  my  face 
were  falling  off  in  spots." 

"We  can't  get  a  palace  for  the  price  we  are 
paying,  honey,"  said  Julia  gently.  There  was 
something  in  her  patient  voice  that  touched  the 
facile  heart  of  the  other  girl,  and  she  left  off  gaz- 
ing at  her  own  reflection  to  cross  the  room  and 
throw  her  arms  about  her  sister's  waist. 

"Well,  never  mind!"  she  crooned,  trying  in- 
effectually to  make  Julia  waltz  with  her.  "The  old 
mirror  doesn't  make  any  difference  anyhow,  and 


36  The  Two  Sisters 

I've  been  horrid  to  let  you  do  all  the  work  of  un- 
packing. I'm  sorry,  Judy,  dear,  honestly  I  am. 
I  know  I'm  a  nuisance  to  you,  but  I'm  going  to  be 
good  and  try  my  best  to  help  you.  I  think  our 
room  is  all  right,  and  when  we  get  a  few  pictures 
on  the  wall — why,  it  will  look  really  palatial." 

Julia  smiled  and  kissed  her.  "You're  an  awful 
little  goose,  Caryl,"  she  said  tenderly,  "but  I  love 
you  for  all  your  nonsense,  just  the  same.  No, 
silly  child,  I  don't  feel  like  dancing.  The  lodger 
beneath  us  might  complain,  and,  besides,  I'm 
hungry  and  want  some  supper." 

"Well,  let's  go  out  and  get  some,"  proposed 
Caryl.  Then,  as  she  noted  how  tired  her  sister 
looked,  she  exclaimed,  "No,  we  won't!  You  lie 
right  down  here  and  rest  while  I  gallop  out  to  the 
corner  and  buy  our  supper  at  the  delicatessen  shop. 
We  can  make  coffee  over  our  alcohol  lamp  and 
we'll  have  a  real  spread  here — a  sort  of  house- 
warming — shan't  we?" 

But  Julia  hesitated.  "I  don't  like  you  to  go  out 
alone,"  she  demurred.  "When  I  remember  that 
man  who  spoke  to  us  I'm  almost  afraid  to  go  out 
myself." 

"Pooh!"  scoffed  Caryl.  "I  guess  I'll  have  to 
find  my  way  around  town  alone  sooner  or  later, 
won't  I  ?  And  men  here  don't  kidnap  grown  girls, 
as  I  used  to  think  the  gypsies  did  little  children 


Mrs.  Halloran's  Lodgings       37 

when  I  was  a  child.  We  were  chumps  to  be 
frightened  by  that  old  beast  this  afternoon.  He 
was  just  trying  to  scare  us,  and  if  he  had  failed 
he  would  have  gone  off  and.left  us.  Now  give  me 
fifty  cents  and  I'll  be  back  in  a  jiffy  with  a  real 
banquet  for  us  both." 

Left  by  herself,  Julia  indulged  in  the  so-called 
relief  to  tense  feminine  nerves  and  burst  into 
tears.  She  seldom  cried,  but  now  that  the  flood- 
gates of  her  misery  were  open,  she  buried  her 
face  in  her  pillow  on  the  unyielding  bed  and  sobbed 
bitterly.  She  was  still  sobbing  when  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  door.  She  sat  up  and  dried  her 
eyes  before  answering.  'At  the  second  knock  she 
asked  in  a  muffled  voice : 

"Who's  there?" 

The  rich  Irish  tones  of  her  landlady  answered. 
"It's  only  me,  Miss  Marvin.  Can  I  come  in?" 

"I'm  sorry,"  faltered  Julia,  "but  I'm  busy,  and 
— and — I  can't  see  you  just  now." 

"Nobody's  ever  too  busy  cryin'  to  stop,  dearie," 
remarked  Mrs.  Halloran,  "so  I'm  coming  in, 
whether  or  no." 

The  touch  of  sympathy  was  too  much  for  the 
lonely  girl,  and  dropping  her  head  upon  Mrs. 
Halloran's  shoulder,  she  began  to  sob  afresh. 

"There,     now,"     the     kind-hearted     woman 


38  The  Two  Sisters 

soothed,  "have  your  cry  out.  What's  distressin* 
you,  anyway?" 

Suddenly,  ashamed  of  her  weakness,  Julia  Mar- 
vin sat  up,  dried  her  eyes  and  tried  to  laugh. 

"Oh,  nothing  in  particular,"  she  said — "only 
I  feel  tired  and  not  sure  about  our  future,  and  you 
were  so  gentle  and  sympathetic  that  I  cried  all  the 
more  when  you  spoke  to  me — for  I'm  a  bit  dis- 
couraged." 

"You'll  be  that  no  longer,"  declared  the  woman 
cheerfully.  "And  if  you  are,  and  don't  let  me 
help  you  if  I  can — I'm  not  your  friend — do  you 
understand?" 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  smiled  Julia.  And  as  she 
looked  into  the  beaming  Irish  countenance  she 
appreciated  that  even  in  a  strange  city  there  were 
kind  hearts,  and  this  knowledge  made  her  burden 
seem  lighter. 


IV 

SETTLING  DOWN 

THEIR  first  six  weeks  of  regular  occupation 
seemed  to  the  Marvin  girls  to  drag  heavily.  Julia 
found  the  work  at  Baird's  department  store  both 
difficult  and  dull.  To  stand  behind  a  notion  coun- 
ter and  sell  pins,  needles,  tape  and  other  articles 
of  this  kind  was  not  an  exciting  pursuit,  and  the 
fact  that  she  must  be  upon  her  feet  for  hours  at 
a  time  made  her  task  painful.  Still  she  stifled  all 
murmurings  and  apologized  so  pleasantly  to  her 
companions — when  obliged  to  turn  to  them  re- 
peatedly for  instructions — that  they  all  liked  her. 
To  be  sure,  she  felt  out  of  her  element  when  the 
girls  gathered  in  groups  and  discussed  the  newest 
fashions,  the  latest  vaudeville  hit  and  the  "fel- 
lows" whom  they  had  met,  but  she  forced  herself 
to  seem  interested  and  not  to  show  that  all  this 
kind  of  thing  bored  her. 

"One  cannot  make  much  in  the  way  of  commis- 
sions at  a  notion  counter,  can  one?"  she  observed 
one  afternoon  to  Ida  Ryan,  the  girl  who  happened 
to  be  standing  next  to  her. 

39 


4O  The  Two  Sisters 

"I  should  say  not!"  exclaimed  Ida.  "But  every 
girl  hopes  to  be  transferred  to  another  depart- 
ment before  long.  If  not,  I  just  wouldn't  stick 
it  out  here." 

"What  would  you  do?"  asked  Julia  curiously. 
She  could  not  accustom  herself  to  the  tone 
that  some  of  the  girls  took — as  if  it  really 
made  no  difference  whether  they  worked  or 
not. 

"Oh,  I'd  stay  at  home  until  I  got  another  job," 
replied  Ida.  "Wouldn't  you  ?" 

Julia  shook  her  lead.  "No;  for  my  home  is 
away  up  in  Springfield,  Massachusetts.  At  least, 
that  is  where  I  used  to  live.  I  shall  not  go  back 
there." 

"How  silly  you  were  not  to  stay  with  your  peo- 
ple," Ida  observed.  "You  could  save  money  by 
living  with  them.  But  away  from  home  you  have 
to  pay  for  board  and  lodging.  Now  all  that  / 
make  goes  for  myself." 

The  pair  had  been  joined  by  Mary  Benton — 
another  of  the  salesgirls — and  at  this  juncture 
she  interposed  eagerly. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all !"  she  exclaimed. 
"I  live  at  home,  but,  believe  me,  I  don't  save  any- 
thing on  that  game.  I  pay  regular  board,  and  be- 
sides that  I'm  always  expected  to  do  something  to 
help  along  with  the  kids'  clothes  or  with  the  rent." 


Settling  Down  41 

"Why  don't  you  live  somewhere  else,  then?" 
asked  Ida. 

The  girl  eyed  her  indignantly.  "Well,  do  you 
suppose  I'm  going  to  leave  my  own  folks  when 
they  need  my  earnings  and  hand  them  out  for 
board  and  lodgings  to  somebody  I  don't  care  a 
rap  for?  Nit!  But  I  do  wish  there  wasn't  a  new 
kid  in  our  family  every  two  years." 

"So  much  for  people's  getting  married!" 
sniffed  Ida.  "None  of  it  in  mine  until  a  rich  guy 
comes  along  who  can  settle  me  on  Easy  Street." 

"A  swell  chance  we  get  of  meeting  that  kind  at 
the  notion  counter  in  Baird's,  or  when  we're  wear- 
ing the  kind  of  clothes  that  our  salaries  buy  us !" 
Ida  remarked.  "I  say  it  ain't  fair  that  the  girls 
who  need  to  marry  rich  can't  meet  rich  chaps.  If 
a  poor  girl  wants  to  stay  decent,  there's  nothing 
for  her  but  to  spend  her  days  clerking  it  in  a  store 
or  marry  a  poor  man  and  be  worse  off  than  she 
was  single.  I  say  it  ain't  fair!" 

Julia  sighed  and  became  silent  as  the  two  girls 
continued  to  exchange  opinions.  Such  thoughts 
as  they  expressed  were  in  her  mind  frequently 
nowadays.  What  was  there  for  her  to  look  for- 
ward to  ?  What  did  all  these  girls  look  forward 
to? 

"Sales  here!"  sounded  a  sharp  voice,  and  she 
started  violently  and  hurried  toward  a  customer 


42  The  Two  Sisters 

who  had  just  approached  the  counter.  The  floor- 
walker who  had  called  her  nodded  approval. 

"I'm  glad,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "that  one 
of  the  girls  is  paying  attention  to  the  job,"  and  as 
he  passed  Ida  and  Mary  he  paused  long  enough 
to  utter  a  word  of  reproof.  His  speech  of  com- 
mendation of  her  was  the  first  bit  of  praise  that 
Julia  Marvin  had  received  since  she  started  to 
work,  and  it  changed  the  trend  of  her  thoughts 
from  discouragement  to  hope. 

But  her  spirits  received  a  dash  when  she  reached 
her  room  that  evening.  Caryl  was  there  before 
her,  sitting  by  the  window  gazing  down  into  the 
street,  and  turned  upon  her  sister  as  soon  as  she 
entered. 

"I  say,  sis,"  she  began,  "do  you  know  I've 
chosen  an  awfully  slow  line  of  work.  I  some- 
times think  I'll  never  catch  on  to  those  old  pot- 
hooks, circles,  dots  and  scratches  that  people  call 
stenography.  They're  horrid." 

Julia  looked  grave.  "Don't  talk  like  that  so 
soon,"  she  advised.  "There's  always  a  sticking 
point  in  everything,  but  now  that  you  have  paid 
for  your  lessons  it  would  be  foolish  to  drop 
them." 

"I  supposed,"  Caryl  said,  "that  you'd  take  that 
tone,  so  I'll  go  on  with  the  thing  for  a  while 


Settling  Down  43 

longer.  But  the  weather's  getting  warm  up  in 
that  school." 

"No  warmer  than  in  Baird's  store,"  her  sister 
reminded  her. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  the  other  skeptically.  "But 
you,  at  least,  have  the  fun  of  seeing  people.  Oh, 
Julia,"  her  tone  changing  suddenly  and  her  eyes 
beginning  to  dance,  "I  bet  I'm  ahead  of  you  in  one 
matter.  I've  had  a  man — at  least  he  calls  himself 
a  man — ask  if  he  could  call  on  me." 

Julia  started.  "Oh,  Caryl!"  she  ejaculated, 
alarmed.  "Who  was  he?" 

Caryl  laughed.  "Don't  be  scared,"  she  said. 
"I  turned  him  down  good  and  plenty.  His  name 
is  Dobbs,  and  he's  a  measly-looking,  skinny  youth 
who's  studying  at  the  school.  He  confided  to  me 
that  he  hopes  to  get  a  job  and  help  support  his 
mother  and  sister.  So  when  he  asked  if  he  could 
call,  I  snapped  out  quickly,  'No,  you  can't,  thank 
you!'" 

"Poor  chap,"  mused  Julia.  "But  you  are  right 
not  to  tell  any  man  where  you  live,  and  not  to  ac- 
cept attentions  from  any  one  of  them." 

"I  know  I'm  right  about  such  a  cheap  skate  as 
Dobbs,"  Caryl  said  loftily,  "but  if  he  was  a  rich 
fellow  I  might  act  differently." 

"You  would  not!"  declared  her  sister  firmly. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  Caryl  argued.    "By 


44  The  Two  Sisters 

the  way,  Judy,  I  caught  a  glimpse  to-day  of  the 
man  who  followed  us  the  day  we  came  here.  He 
did  not  see  me,  and  as  he  is  such  a  common  looking 
creature  I  was  not  sorry.  I  find,"  she  went  on 
thoughtfully,  "that  it  is  easy  to  snub  men  like  him 
and  Dobbs.  But" — she  hesitated — "there  must 
be  in  this  town  some  decent  men  who  have  cash 
and  would  like  to  meet  me." 

A  wistful  sound  had  crept  into  her  voice,  and 
Julia,  hearing  it,  felt  a  sudden  thrill  of  apprehen- 
sion mingled  with  pity  for  her  "little  sister." 

Although  chained  to  the  dull  routine  of  her 
work,  Julia  Marvin  was  not  discontented.  Every 
morning  found  her  at  her  post  at  the  notion  coun- 
ter. Late  afternoon  saw  her  walking  home  to  her 
barely  furnished  room.  She  went  to  bed  early  and 
slept  until  the  whirr  of  her  alarm  clock  aroused 
her.  The  small  alcohol  lamp  which  she  and  Caryl 
had  owned  had  been  replaced  by  a  little  gas  stove, 
and,  after  she  had  dressed  each  morning,  Julia 
would  prepare  with  this  a  light  breakfast  of  toast 
and  coffee — just  enough  for  two.  Then  she  would 
wake  Caryl,  and  the  sisters  would  eat;  Julia  with 
her  hat  on,  ready  to  hurry  off  to  the  store;  the 
younger  girl,  sleepy  and  cross  and  clad  in  a  wrap- 
per, casting  wistful  glances  at  the  bed  from  which 
she  had  been  called  all  too  soon  for  her. 


Settling  Down  45 

The  two  girls  had  few  recreations.  After 
standing  all  day  behind  a  counter,  waiting  upon 
a  horde  of  querulous  shoppers,  Julia's  one  wish 
was  to  go  home,  eat  her  supper,  and  spend  the 
hours  left  before  bedtime  in  reading. 

In  the  evenings  Caryl  had  her  school  work  to 
do.  At  least  Julia  insisted  that  she  should  do 
this  and  was  inflexible  in  the  matter  in  spite  of  the 
younger  girl's  protests  that  she  was  "tired"  or 
that  she  knew  to-morrow's  lesson  already.  Some- 
times on  Saturday  nights  Julia  permitted  herself 
and  Caryl  the  rare  luxury  of  a  trip  to  the  theater. 
Seated  high  in  the  second  balcony  the  pair  would 
watch  the  performance  with  breathless  interest. 
On  Sunday  mornings  they  went  to  a  church  of  the 
denomination  to  which  their  mother  had  belonged, 
and  in  the  afternoons  they  rode  far  out  into  the 
country  on  the  trolley,  or  strolled  through  Cen- 
tral Park  or  one  of  the  city's  museums. 

It  was  a  quiet  life  and  a  frugal  one,  but  Julia 
was  not  dissatisfied.  There  was  always  in  her 
mind  the  thought  that  she  was  earning  her  own 
living  and  that  appreciation  strengthened  her  in 
the  purpose  that  had  at  first  seemed  so  useless. 
Moreover,  although  she  had  never  quite  lost  her 
fear  of  the  great  city,  she  was  learning  to  think  it 
wonderful.  Often  she  slipped  into  Mrs.  Hallo- 
ran's  tidy  rooms  for  a  half  hour's  chat,  and  the 


46  The  Two  Sisters 

wise  Irishwoman  with  her  kind  heart  gave  her 
comfort  and  not  a  little  wise  advice.  The  girls 
at  the  counter  with  her  in  Baird's  store  had  shown 
themselves  friendly  to  her. 

Caryl  was  the  source  of  Julia's  only  anxiety. 
She  would  tell  herself  sometimes  that  if  it  were 
not  for  her  uneasiness  about  her  younger  sister 
she  would  be  quite  content.  Caryl  did  not  seem 
to  be  progressing  in  her  work  and  she  was  con- 
stantly complaining  of  people  and  conditions  in 
the  school  she  attended.  She  had  learned  to  write 
fairly  well,  although  not  with  rapidity,  upon  the 
machine  that  Julia  had  rented  for  her,  and  she 
claimed  that  she  was  as  well  grounded  as  she  cared 
to  be  in  the  rudiments  of  shorthand. 

One  evening  in  mid-summer  Julia,  entering  her 
room,  found  Caryl  sitting  upon  the  bed,  her  books 
on  the  floor,  while  on  her  lips  was  a  mutinous  pout 
that  Julia  knew  and  dreaded. 

"Judy,"  said  the  younger  girl  abruptly,  "I'm 
not  going  back  to  that  old  school.  It's  horrid !" 

"Not  going  back!"  repeated  Julia,  in  consterna- 
tion. "What's  the  matter?" 

"I'm  tired,"  answered  Caryl  pettishly.  "I'm 
tired  of  working  for  nothing.  Here  I  work  my 
fingers  to  the  bone  day  and  night  and " 

Remembering  her  efforts  to  induce  her  little 


Settling  Down  47 

sister  to  study,  Julia  could  not  repress  a  smile,  and 
Caryl,  seeing  it,  lost  her  self-control. 

"You  may  smile  in  that  superior  way  if  you  like, 
Julia  Marvin!"  she  exclaimed  hotly.  "Of  course, 
you  don't  want  me  to  do  what  I  wish  about  any- 
thing, but  all  the  same  I  tell  you  I  am  not  going 
back  to  that  old  place!" 

"Suppose,"  suggested  Julia  calmly,  "that  before 
you  fly  off  into  a  temper  you  tell  me  what  is  the 
matter,  Caryl." 

"There's  nothing  particular  the  matter,"  mut- 
tered Caryl  sulkily.  "But  I'm  sick  of  being 
bossed.  It  was  not  so  bad  as  long  as  I  had  a  man 
teaching  me.  He  was  quite  pleasant.  You  know 
I  told  you  of  some  of  the  kind  things  he  said  to 
me.  But  now  they've  put  a  woman  in  his  place 
and  she  is  a  cross  old  thing.  She  doesn't  like  me 
and  she  pesters  me  all  the  time." 

Julia  felt  that  the  moment  had  come  for  strong 
speech,  and  she  drew  in  her  breath  quickly. 
"Yes,"  she  said,  "as  long  as  there  was  a  man 
teaching  you,  a  man  who  liked  your  looks  and 
told  you  so,  and  was  nice  to  you  because  you  were 
pretty,  it  was  all  right.  But  now,  when  you  have 
a  woman  teacher  who  doesn't  care  whether  you 
are  pretty  or  not,  you  want  to  give  up  the  work 
and  make  the  money  paid  for  your  tuition  go  for 
nothing.  That's  about  it,  isn't  it?" 


48  The  Two  Sisters 

"Well,  I  won't  work  under  that  woman — I 
won't!  I  won't!"  sobbed  Caryl,  throwing  herself 
upon  the  bed  in  a  storm  of  angry  tears.  "I'd — 
I'd  rather  be  in  a  convent  than  in  this  dull  old 
place  where  we  never  see  anyone,  or  meet  any- 
one, and  nobody  cares  to  give  us  a  good  time." 

Julia  gazed  at  her  sister  for  a  long  moment  in 
silence.  "Sometimes,  my  dear,"  she  said  slowly 
at  last,  "sometimes  I  almost  think  that  a  convent 
would  be  about  the  best  place  for  you,  after  all. 
Yes,  little  sister,  I  almost  believe  that!" 

She  went  to  the  window  and  stood  looking 
down  into  the  dusty  street.  Her  face  was  very 
pale.  Caryl  lay,  face  downward,  on  the  bed  where 
she  had  thrown  herself  in  tearful  protest  against 
returning  to  "that  horrid  school."  On  the  bureau 
the  little  alarm  clock  ticked  away  busily.  From 
far  down  the  street  came  the  dull  roar  of  the  ele- 
vated trains. 

It  was  Julia  who  spoke  first.  She  had  the  baf- 
fled sensation  of  one  who,  while  understanding 
the  attitude  of  another,  feels  in  herself  no  sym- 
pathy with  it. 

"Caryl,"  she  said  dispassionately,  "instead  of 
lying  there  like  a  five-year-old  child,  suppose  you 
sit  up  and  tell  me  what  is  really  the  matter." 

No  reply  came  from  the  prostrate  girl  except 
a  strangled  sob. 


CARYL  LAY  FACE  DOWNWARD  ON  THE  BED  WHERE  SHE 
HAD  THROWN  HERSELF  IN  TEARFUL  PROTEST 


Settling  Down  49 

"Sister,  dear,"  ventured  Julia,  more  gently, 
crossing  the  room  and  laying  a  caressing  hand  on 
Caryl's  shoulder,  "don't  let  us  quarrel.  Sit  up 
now  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  did  not  mean  to 
scold — but,"  with  a  sigh,  "it's  been  a  tiresome  day 
and  I'm  rather  cross,  I'm  afraid." 

"Well,  that's  no  reason  for  your  taking  my 
head  off,"  declared  Caryl,  with  the  violence  of 
injured  pride.  Yet  she  stopped  crying  and  sat  up. 

"I  wish,  Julia,"  she  said  loftily,  as  she  powd- 
ered her  face,  flushed  from  weeping,  "that  you 
wouldn't  take  that  high  and  mighty  'I-am-ages- 
older-than-you'  tone  with  me.  I'm  not  a  baby  and 
you  aren't  my  guardian.  All  I  said  was  that  I 
wasn't  going  back  to  that  horrid  old  business 
school — and  I  meant  it." 

"I  think  you  are  going  back,  dear,"  rejoined 
Julia,  controlling  her  voice  and  manner  to  calm- 
ness. 

"And  I  think  I'm  not!"  flashed  back  Caryl. 

"Why  not?"  asked  her  sister.  She  had  learned 
long  ago  that  with  the  younger  girl  a  point  was 
gained  sooner  by  questioning  than  through  argu- 
ment. 

"Because, "said  Caryl  sharply,  "I've  got  a  job, — 
that  is" — she  corrected  herself — "a  position." 

"With  whom?"  queried  the  other,  in  amaze- 
ment. 


50  The  Two  Sisters 

"With  an  author,"  answered  Caryl  triumph- 
antly. "I'm  to  be  secretary  to  Kelley  Delaine,  the 
novelist.  He  'phoned  to  the  office  this  afternoon 
for  someone  who  could  typewrite  and  take  slow 
dictation,  and  Mr.  Jennings  asked  me  if  I  would 
like  to  try  the  job.  I  said  I  would,  and  I'm  going 
to  see  him  to-morrow.  So  you  see,  Julia,  even  if 
I  do  behave  like  a  five-year-old  child  I  am  worth 
rather  more  than  you  thought.  I'm  to  get  ten 
dollars  a  week,"  she  added  proudly. 

The  girl's  tone  of  superiority  fanned  the  flame 
of  Julia's  already  smoldering  temper.  She  was 
tired  and  hungry  and  her  self-control  gave  way 
to  a  sudden  flood  of  exasperation  at  her  sister's 
ungracious  manner. 

"Really,  Caryl,"  she  retorted,  "your  weak  at- 
tempts at  sarcasm  are  in  perfect  accord  with  the 
rest  of  your  behavior.  I  think  I  rather  overesti- 
mated your  apparent  age  when  I  said  that  you 
acted  like  a  child  of  five  years.  Does  it  occur  to 
you  that  if  you  had  unbent  a  little  from  your  fool- 
ish dignity,  and  had  not  gone  deliberately  about 
making  a  quarrel  this  evening,  this  whole  matter 
could  have  been  settled  a  half  hour  ago  with  no 
hurt  feelings  on  either  side?  As  far  as  your  ac- 
cepting a  position  of  secretary  for  anybody  is 
concerned,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  you  are 
not  capable  of  filling  it." 


Settling  Down  51 

"Now,  Judy,  dear,"  pleaded  Caryl,  with  one 
of  her  swift  changes  of  mood  and  temper,  "don't 
be  cross !  I'm  sorry  if  I  was  disagreeable  to  you 
— but  listen.  I  can  typewrite  really  very  well 
when  I  try,  and  I  can  take  slow  dictation,  and 
that's  all  that  Mr.  Delaine  says  he  wants.  It 
won't  do  any  harm  for  me  to  try,  anyway,  and  the 
longer  I  work  the  better  I  will  do.  So,  now  it's 
all  settled,  isn't  it?" 

"No,  darling,  it  isn't,"  answered  Julia  gravely. 
"We  don't  know  anything  about  this  man  who  calls 
himself  Delaine.  He  might  be  almost  anyone, 
and " 

"I  thought  of  all  that  this  afternoon,"  Caryl 
interrupted,  laughing  and  pinching  her  sister's 
cheek.  "I  asked  Mr.  Jennings  and  he  said  that  it 
was  a  perfectly  all-right  position.  Mr.  Delaine 
has  gotten  people  from  the  school  before.  I'm 
not  such  a  little  goose  as  you  think,  Julia.  Now 
please  be  a  dear  and  say  that  you  do  not  object 
to  my  taking  the  position.  Of  course,"  she  added 
artfully,  "I  wouldn't  think  of  taking  it  unless  you 
approved.  Please  say  yes!" 

For  a  moment  Julia  pondered  anxiously,  then 
she  spoke.  "Caryl,"  she  said  slowly,  "if  you 
really  feel  that  you  should  take  this  job,  I  won't 
stand  in  your  way.  Personally,  I  would  rather 
you  didn't  do  it,  for  I  realize  what  you  don't,  dear 


52  The  Two  Sisters 

— that  you  are  not  a  good  enough  stenographer  to 
do  the  kind  of  work  that  Mr.  Delaine  will  de- 
mand. You  will  do  better  in  the  long  run  if  you 
go  back  to  the  school  for  a  month  or  so  more. 
Still,  if  you  feel  that  you  want  to  accept  this  op- 
portunity, I  will  not  ask  you  to  give  it  up." 

"Then  we'll  call  it  all  settled!"  rejoined  Caryl 
quickly.  "I'll  start  in  to-morrow  with  Mr.  De- 
laine." 

Lying  awake  late  into  the  night,  Julia  stretched 
out  her  hand  and  touched  her  sister's  arm. 

"Slipping  away  from  me,  dear,  aren't  you?" 
she  whispered  sadly,  "slipping  away." 

But  no  reply  came  from  the  sleeping  girl,  and, 
as  Julia  listened,  it  seemed  to  her  excited  imagina- 
tion that  all  the  street  sounds  were  mingled  in  an 
echo  of  her  whisper — "Slipping  away!" 


CARYL   TAKES   A    POSITION 

CARYL  MARVIN  awoke  early  in  the  morning  of 
the  day  upon  which  she  was  to  undertake  her 
"job."  Julia,  who  had  lain  awake  far  into  the 
night  in  the  restlessness  of  apprehension,  was  now 
sleeping  heavily.  Caryl  was  too  much  excited  to 
close  her  eyes  again,  but  lay  still  reviewing  the 
occurrences  of  the  day  before. 

She  had  quarreled  with  the  woman  who  chanced 
to  be  her  teacher  during  the  absence  of  the  man 
who  had  been  her  instructor.  He  was  away  on 
his  vacation,  a  fact  which  Caryl  resented.  Mr. 
Schmidt  had  always  been  nice  to  her  and  had 
often  smiled  at  her  indulgently  when  she  made 
some  error.  Not  so  his  substitute.  Miss  Waters 
had  said  that  Caryl  took  dictation  too  slowly. 

"You  ought  to  write  more  easily  after  all  these 
weeks  here,"  she  declared,  "and  you  should  be 
able  to  read  your  notes  more  readily." 

"Lots  of  people  can't  read  their  own  notes 
quickly,"  replied  Caryl. 

S3 


54  The  Two  Sisters 

"I  did  not  say  'quickly,'  Miss  Marvin,"  the 
teacher  reminded  her.  "I  said  'readily' !" 

"Well,  then,  'readily,'  if  that  is  what  you  said  I" 
retorted  Caryl  pertly.  "And  I  repeat  that  many 
stenographers  cannot  read  their  own  notes  read- 
ily." 

"Then  they  are  not  good  stenographers,"  re- 
plied Miss  Waters  firmly,  "and  you  will  not  be 
one  unless  you  improve  more  quickly  than  you 
do  now." 

"Then  I  probably  won't  be  one !"  muttered  the 
irate  girl.  Angry  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  Miss 
Waters's  own  patience  deserted  her. 

"I  do  not  see,"  she  exclaimed,  "what  Mr.  Jen- 
nings was  thinking  of  in  giving  me  such  a  back- 
ward pupil!  He  shows  a  lack  of  understanding 
as  to  how  to  grade  students!" 

She  repented  her  sharp  speech  as  soon  as  she 
had  uttered  it.  She  needed  the  work  she  was  now 
doing;  it  meant  a  salary  without  which  she  could 
scarcely  live.  If  this  foolish  girl — who  seemed  to 
be  somewhat  of  a  favorite  with  Mr.  Jennings — 
chose  to  repeat  to  him  what  the  teacher  had  said 
of  him  it  might  make  trouble.  Before  Miss  Wat- 
ers could  retract  her  statement,  Caryl  seized  the 
instrument  the  older  woman  had  laid  ready  to 
her  hand. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  tell  Mr.  Jen- 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         55 

nings  what  your  opinion  of  him  is!"  she  suggested 
spitefully.  "I  see,"  glancing  at  the  clock,  "that  it 
is  nearly  closing  time.  As  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Jen- 
nings before  I  go  home  I  will  go  to  his  office  now." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  gathered  up  her 
books  and  papers.  The  startled  spinster  tried  to 
pour  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters. 

"I  am  sorry,  Miss  Marvin,"  she  ventured  em- 
barrassedly,  "if  I  spoke  hastily  just  now.  You 
may  be  a  little  nervous  and  that  makes  you  not  as 
quick  as  some;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Jen- 
nings' judgment  is  right " 

Caryl  stopped  her  by  a  gesture.  "That  remains 
to  be  seen,"  she  said  significantly.  "If  I  can  per- 
suade him  to  let  me  take  a  position  soon — and  give 
up  my  work  here — I  may  not  think  it  worth  while 
to  tell  him  that  I  have  heard  one  of  his  teachers 
doubts  his  ability  to  run  a  school." 

There  was  a  malignant  spark  in  the  girl's  eyes 
as  she  spoke.  Now — thinking  it  over  as  she  lay 
watching  the  morning  light  creeping  into  her  room 
— she  smiled  in  self-congratulation. 

"I  spiked  her  guns,  all  right,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "It  made  it  unsafe  for  her  to  tell  him  that 
she  thought  I  was  not  fitted  to  take  a  position." 

The  scheme  had  worked.  Fate  seemed  to  be 
on  the  girl's  side,  for  she  had  entered  Mr.  Jen- 
nings's  office  just  as  he  received  a  message  from 


56  The  Two  Sisters 

Mr.  Delaine  asking  for  someone  who  could  be 
his  secretary.  Caryl  had  spoken  truly  when  she 
had  said  that  he  did  not  demand  an  expert  stenog- 
rapher. 

"I  dictate  very  slowly,"  he  told  Mr.  Jennings 
over  the  'phone,  "but  I  want  a  quiet,  inoffensive 
young  person  whom  I  can  train  to  my  ways.  If 
she  suits  me,  a  good  position  awaits  her.  I  will 
pay  her  only  seven  dollars  for  the  first  two  weeks 
or  so,  then,  if  she  makes  good,  I  will  pay  ten." 

Caryl  felt  safe  in  informing  her  sister  that  her 
salary  would  be  ten  dollars — for,  of  course,  she 
would  "make  good." 

"I  can  send  you  a  beginner  for  that  sum,  per- 
haps," Mr.  Jennings  had  said  as  he  hung  up  the 
receiver.  Then,  turning,  he  saw  Caryl  waiting 
at  his  elbow. 

"Let  me  try  for  that  position!"  she  exclaimed 
impulsively. 

She  looked  very  pretty  standing  there  gazing 
eagerly  at  him.  But  he  hesitated. 

"But  you  have  paid  for  your  lessons  in  ad- 
vance," the  man  objected.  "You  would  be  the 
loser  on  that  deal." 

"I  don't  care !"  rejoined  the  girl  recklessly.  "I 
tell  you  what  we'll  do,  you  let  me  go  now  and  I'll 
forget  about  the  money  I've  paid." 

"If  you  insist,"  mused  the  man,  "and  if  your 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         57 

present  teacher  agrees  that  you  are  fitted  to  take 
the  job — then,  perhaps — well,  I'll  send  for  her!" 

Miss  Waters,  sent  for  and  questioned — while 
Caryl's  bright  and  quizzical  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
her — decided  that,  "since  the  gentleman  in  ques- 
tion did  not  need  a  rapid  stenographer  just  at 
first,  Miss  Marvin  could  fill  the  position." 

So  Caryl  had  left  the  school.  She  felt  the  thrill 
of  victory  as  she  remembered  how  she  had  con- 
quered. But  she  decided  again,  as  the  little  alarm 
clock  shrilled  noisily  and  Julia  opened  her  weary 
eyes  at  the  sound,  it  would  certainly  be  best  not  to 
tell  her  sister  all  the  facts.  Julia  was  so  fussy ! 

Caryl  Marvin  was  due  at  Kelley  Delaine's 
studio  at  ten  o'clock,  and  she  spent  the  last  hour 
before  leaving  her  room  in  performing 'her  toi- 
lette. Her  dainty  lingerie  shirtwaist  was  immacu- 
late, and  her  blue  serge  skirt  and  jacket  were  care- 
fully brushed.  She  would  have  donned  a  light 
summer  silk — her  best  dress — but  Julia  advised 
otherwise. 

"I  want  to  make  a  good  first  impression,"  Caryl 
declared. 

"Then  dress  very  simply,"  Julia  counseled. 

"It  is  better,  Caryl,  to  begin  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ladder  and  work  up  slowly,  than  to  try  to 


58  The  Two  Sisters 

start  in  the  middle,  and  then  come  tumbling 
down." 

"I'm  not  going  to  tumble,"  Caryl  assured  her. 
"Just  watch  me !" 

"Well,  good  luck  to  you,  dear,"  Julia  said  wist- 
fully. She  had  prepared  the  usual  breakfast  and 
washed  the  dishes  at  the  sink  in  the  hall.  "Take 
care  of  yourself,  little  sister.  You  are  all  I  have, 
you  know." 

She  stopped  to  kiss  the  girl  a  second  time,  and 
there  was  a  look  of  almost  maternal  longing  in 
her  dark  eyes  as  she  watched  Caryl  begin  her 
toilette. 

A  clock  in  the  neighborhood  was  striking  ten 
when  Caryl  Marvin  stepped  from  the  elevator  in 
the  building  in  which  Kelley  Delaine  lived.  The 
elevator  boy  pointed  down  the  corridor. 

"Mr.  Delaine's  apartment's  down  that  hall  to 
the  left,"  he  directed.  As  Caryl  went  in  the  di- 
rection indicated,  her  heels  made  such  a  tapping 
sound  on  the  floor  that  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
entire  building  echoed  with  the  noise,  and  she 
walked,  therefore,  on  her  tiptoes.  Her  heart  was 
beating  fast  as  she  pushed  the  button  over  which 
was  tacked  a  card  bearing  the  name  "Mr.  Kelley 
Delaine."  The  door  was  opened  at  once  by  the 
author  himself.  His  back  was  to  the  light,  and 
Caryl  could  not  see  his  face  distinctly  at  first. 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         59 

"Oh,  good  morning!"  he  said  pleasantly.  "I 
suppose  you  are  the  stenographer  sent  from  the 
school,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Caryl  diffidently. 

"Come  right  in,"  said  the  man,  throwing  open 
the  door  of  his  study.  "Take  off  your  hat  and 
jacket  and  I  will  be  with  you  in  a  moment." 

Left  alone,  Caryl  looked  eagerly  about  her. 
The  room  was  large  and  light,  and  comfortably, 
if  plainly,  furnished.  There  was  a  great  roll-top 
desk  by  one  window,  and  by  the  other  a  table,  on 
which  stood  a  typewriter.  Here,  she  supposed, 
was  where  she  would  sit.  In  the  center  of  the 
room  was  a  table  piled  with  books,  magazines  and 
papers,  and  at  one  side  of  this  was  a  divan  with  a 
dark  red  couch  cover.  Everywhere  there  were 
books.  The  walls  were  lined  with  shelves  of 
them,  and  the  narrow  mantelshelf  had  piles  of 
them  at  both  ends,  although  in  the  middle  stood 
a  clock.  Behind  this  was  a  mirror  into  which 
Caryl  glanced  anxiously  after  removing  her  hat, 
then  smiled  with  satisfaction.  At  this  minute  De- 
laine returned. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "suppose  we  get  right  to  work. 
What's  the  matter?" 

For  she  had  started  in  genuine  surprise  as  the 
light  fell  full  upon  his  face. 


60  The  Two  Sisters 

"N — nothing,"  she  stammered,  blushing  scar- 
let, "only " 

"Only  what?"  he  insisted.     "What  is  it?" 

"Nothing,"  she  repeated,  "only  I've  seen  you 
before.  You  look  like,  surely" — with  an  out- 
burst of  conviction — "you  are  the  person  who 
saved  me  from  getting  killed  by  an  automobile — 
don't  you  remember?" 

The  man  looked  at  her  keenly.  "To  be  sure," 
he  said,  "you  are  the  little  girl  who  tried  to  run 
into  a  taxi  one  evening — aren't  you?  I  didn't 
recognize  you  at  first.  Where's  your  sister?" 

"Wh— hat?"  faltered  Caryl. 

"I  say  where's  your  sister?  I  remember  her 
better  than  I  do  you." 

The  words  were  said  with  a  blunt  earnestness, 
and  Caryl  saw  that  the  speaker  did  not  intend  to 
wound  her  vanity,  yet  she  bridled  slightly  as  she 
answered: 

"My  sister  is  at  home,  of  course." 

"Oh,  then  your  home  is  here  in  New  York,  is 
it?"  asked  Delaine. 

"It  is  now,"  said  Caryl,  "we  came  to  New 
York  some  months  ago — my  sister  and  I." 

"Why?"  asked  Delaine. 

Caryl  thought  quickly.  She  would  not  tell  this 
stunning-looking  man  the  truth/  She  was 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         61 

ashamed  to.  The  man  noticed  her  hesitation  and 
hastened  to  reassure  her. 

"Don't  tell  me  if  you  prefer  not  to,"  he  said 
kindly. 

uOh,  that's  all  right,"  Caryl  replied.  "There's 
nothing  much  to  tell.  We  left  home  because  our 
father  married  a  second  time — a  coarse,  uncon- 
genial woman.  We  have  our  own  apartment  here 
in  New  York  and  I  have  decided  to  take  up 
stenography,  just  for  the  experience  and  to  prove 
that  I  could  support  myself  if  necessary." 

"And  your  sister?"  asked  Delaine.  "What 
does  she  do?" 

"Oh,  she  is  a  writer,"  responded  Caryl  glibly. 
"She  writes  stories  for  the  magazines  and  news- 
papers." 

Then  she  stopped,  astonished  at  her  own  skill 
in  weaving  romances. 

She  knew  what  the  author's  next  question 
would  be,  and  as  she  saw  him  hesitate  before 
uttering  it,  the  frightened  desire  seized  her  to 
confess  the  truth  and  tell  him  that  Julia  was  a 
shopgirl.  Yet  by  the  time  that  Delaine  had  voiced 
his  query  her  quick  mind  had  prepared  another 
falsehood. 

"Does  your  sister  write  under  her  own  name?" 
asked  her  new  employer. 

"No,"  Caryl  responded  glibly.     "Most  of  her 


62  The  Two  Sisters 

work  is  unsigned.  She  writes  articles  and  things 
like  that,  you  know." 

"Oh,"  said  Delaine,  "I  see.  By  the  way,"  he 
added,  with  a  kind  smile,  "I  haven't  asked  for 
your  own  name  yet.  Jennings  gave  it  to  me  over 
the  'phone,  but  I  didn't  catch  it." 

"It's  Marvin,"  Caryl  told  him.  "Caryl  Mar- 
vin." 

"Caryl  Marvin,"  he  repeated.  "And  your 
sister?" 

"Her  name  is  Julia,"  the  girl  said  briefly. 

"Julia,"  he  mused.  "I'll  recollect  that.  Julia 
Marvin — it's  a  nice  name,"  he  murmured,  as  if 
to  himself. 

Caryl  turned  toward  the  window  by  which 
the  typewriter  stood.  "Whenever  you  are  ready, 
Mr.  Delaine,"  she  said,  somewhat  stiffly,  "I  am 
ready  to  begin." 

The  man  started  slightly.  "Excuse  me  for 
keeping  you  waiting!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  was 
thinking  of  something  else.  But  we'll  get  down 
to  brass  tacks  at  once.  Mr.  Jennings  has  told 
you  of  the  arrangement?" 

"Yes,"  the  girl  replied. 

"Really,"  Delaine  explained,  "this  interview 
this  morning  was  more  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
acquainted  than  for  actual  work,  although  I  have 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         63 

some  stuff  I  would  like  you  to  copy  before  you  go. 
Do  you  think  you  will  be  able  to  do  the  work?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Caryl  assured  him. 

"Then  it's  settled,"  declared  Delaine.  "Now, 
if  you  will  take  these  papers  and  make  a  double 
copy  of  each  of  them  that  will  be  all  for  to-day. 
You  will  find  paper,  etc.,  in  the  drawer  of  the 
machine-table." 

With  a  nod,  he  went  into  the  next  room  while 
Caryl  sat  down  at  the  typewriter  and  began  to 
copy  the  notes  he  had  given  her.  She  was  ex- 
cited and  nervous,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  again 
and  again  to  erase  many  blunders  made  by  her 
uncertain  fingers. 

She  was  well  on  toward  the  end  of  her  task 
when  she  heard  the  door-bell  ring.  No  one  an- 
swered, and,  when  it  sounded  a  second  time,  there 
was  an  impatient  movement  behind  the  portieres 
dividing  the  study  from  the  room  to  which  De- 
laine had  retired,  and  his  voice  called  loudly, 
"Wang!"  A  door  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
study  opened  and  a  solemn,  moon-faced  China- 
man glided  noiselessly  across  the  floor  and  disap- 
peared into  the  hallway,  and  a  moment  later  Caryl 
heard  the  front  door  open  and  a  jovial  voice 
raised  in  greeting. 

"Hello,  Wang!"  it  proclaimed.     "How's  the 


64  The  Two  Sisters 

old  pirate  this  morning?  Boss  in?  All  right,  I'm 
coming  in  to  see  him." 

A  tall  figure  in  riding  clothes  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  and  Caryl,  overcome  with  sudden  em- 
barrassment, turned  to  her  machine  and  pretended 
to  be  absorbed  in  her  work. 

"I  beg  pardon!"  a  voice  close  to  her  said,  "but 
I  understood  Wang  to  say  that  Mr.  Delaine  was 
in." 

The  girl  glanced  up.  A  tall  man  stood  beside 
her.  He  was  lean  and  dark  and  had  an  aquiline 
face.  He  tapped  one  putteed  leg  with  his  riding- 
crop  as  he  spoke,  and  Caryl  caught  the  gleam  of  a 
large  ruby  upon  one  of  his  white  fingers.  Before 
the  girl  could  reply  Delaine  himself  entered,  hat 
and  stick  in  hand. 

"Hello,  Harry!"  he  exclaimed  heartily. 
"You're  a  sight  for  sore  eyes.  When  did  you 
blow  into  town?" 

"Yesterday,"  the  new  arrival  answered.  "I've 
just  been  riding  around  the  park  and  I  stopped  in 
to  see  you  for  a  moment.  I  say,  old  man " 

He  grasped  Delaine  by  the  arm  and  murmured 
something  too  low  for  Caryl's  ear  to  catch. 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Delaine  asserted 
positively.  "Come,  I'm  going  out.  I've  a  little 
business  to  attend  to  and  then  we'll  lunch  some- 
where together." 


Caryl  Takes  a  Position         65 

"Oh,  I  say,"  protested  the  other,  "give  me  a 
chance,  won't  you?  If  you  don't,"  he  threatened, 
laughing  recklessly,  "there's  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  take  a  chance  myself." 

For  a  mere  second  he  hesitated,  then  turned  to 
Caryl,  who  was  still  at  work  upon  the  typewriter, 
making  even  more  blunders  than  before. 

"Mr.  Delaine  puts  upon  me  the  burden  of  in- 
troduction," the  stranger  said  to  her.  "For  an 
ordinarily  generous  man  he  can  be  very  stingy  at 
times.  My  name  is  Somerdyke — Harry  Somer- 
dyke.  Please  be  kind  and  accept  this  as  an  intro- 
duction." 

As  he  spoke  he  smiled  with  no  trace  of  em- 
barrassment, and  Caryl  noted  admiringly  the 
white  flash  of  his  perfect  teeth.  She  flushed,  but 
lifted  her  blue  eyes  to  him. 

"I'm  Caryl  Marvin,"  she  returned  shyly,  "and 
I'm  very  glad  that  you  spoke  to  me,  Mr.  Somer- 
dyke." 

Somerdyke  laughed  confidently,  and  Delaine 
frowned  at  the  sound.  "Come,  Harry,"  he  said 
impatiently.  "I  can't  wait  any  longer." 

The  two  men  went  toward  the  hall  together. 
At  the  door  Somerdyke  turned  and  looked  back 
over  his  shoulder. 

"And  I'm  very  glad  you  spoke  to  me,  Miss 
Marvin,"  he  averred  and  laughed  again. 


VI 

CARYL   GOES   SHOPPING 

FOR  several  minutes  after  Kelley  Delaine  and 
his  friend  had  left  the  apartment  Caryl  Marvin 
sat,  a  smile  on  her  lips,  musing  on  what  had  just 
happened.  Surely  she  was  at  last  coming  into 
her  own. 

She  was  aware  that  Mr.  Delaine  had  not  seemed 
especially  impressed  by  her  looks  and  had  spoken 
of  Julia  as  if  he  had  been  more  attracted  by  her 
personality.  Still  Caryl  had  the  advantage  of 
being  on  the  scene,  while  to  him  Julia  was  only  a 
memory.  The  one  who  was  with  the  man  day 
after  day  would  surely  win  his  liking  at  last.  She 
did  not  mean  to  be  vain,  but  Mr.  Somerdyke's 
desire  to  become  acquainted  with  her  had  proved 
to  her  that  he  must  have  considered  her  at  least 
worth  while.  Moreover,  Kelley  Delaine's  evi- 
dent disinclination  to  introduce  Somerdyke  was 
a  subtle  flattery  in  itself. 

Wang's  soft  step  in  the  hall  recalled  her  with 
a  start  to  her  work,  and  once  more  she  bent  over 

66 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping  67 

the  machine.  As  she  did  so  she  was  appalled  at 
the  untidy  appearance  of  the  sheet  before  her, 
and,  glancing  at  the  copying  she  had  done  this 
morning,  she  was  chagrined.  It  would  never  do 
to  turn  in  such  stuff  as  this  to  her  new  employer. 
His  own  notes  were  so  neat  that  she  was  certain 
he  would  expect  neatness  and  thoroughness  in  her 
copies.  Her  excitement  and  nervousness  had  in- 
terfered with  her  doing  her  best. 

With  a  tremendous  effort  of  her  will  she 
dragged  her  thoughts  from  everything  except  her 
task.  Disregarding  the  soiled  and  erased  results 
of  her  morning's  efforts,  she  placed  a  clean  sheet 
of  paper  in  the  machine  and,  more  carefully  than 
she  had  ever  worked  before  in  her  life,  began  to 
copy  Delaine's  notes. 

For  two  hours  there  was  no  sound  in  the  room 
save  the  click,  click  of  the  typewriter.  Caryl  did 
her  best,  and  the  clean  copies  were  all  that  she 
could  wish,  when,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  she 
laid  them  on  Delaine's  desk  with  his  notes.  She 
did  not  throw  her  first  efforts  in  the  wastebasket 
where  they  would  have  been  mute  witnesses  of  her 
failure,  but,  crumpling  the  sheets  of  marred  paper 
into  a  tight  ball,  she  stuffed  them  into  her  hand- 
bag. Then  she  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket  and 
started  for  the  door  just  as  the  clock  on  the  man- 
telshelf chimed  two. 


68  The  Two  Sisters 

She  was  tired  and  nervous  lest  her  employer 
should  return  and  find  her  still  here.  As  she 
reached  the  outer  hall  she  heard  the  elevator  as- 
cending, and,  thinking  that  perhaps  Delaine  might 
be  upon  it,  and  seeing  her  would  know  how  long 
she  had  taken  to  do  his  work,  she  went  swiftly 
down  the  first  flight  of  stairs  and  awaited  the 
elevator  on  the  floor  below  that  on  which  was 
Delaine's  apartment. 

She  was  right  in  her  suspicion,  for,  as  she 
reached  the  turn  in  the  staircase,  she  heard  the  car 
stop  on  the  floor  she  had  just  left,  and  Somerdyke's 
laugh  reached  her  as  Delaine  asked,  "You'll  come 
in  and  have  a  smoke,  won't  you?" 

"Of  course  I'll  come  in,"  agreed  Somerdyke, 
"in  fact,  that  was  why  I  came  home  with  you. 
Whether  I  stay  long  may  depend  upon  who's 
here." 

Caryl  smiled  at  the  meaning  he  managed  to 
convey  in  these  words,  also  at  the  sudden  coldness 
of  Delaine's  accents  as  he  replied,  "There  is  prob- 
ably nobody  here  but  Wang.  My  stenographer 
must  have  finished  her  work  and  gone  home  long 
ago." 

Then,  as  the  car  stopped  on  the  landing  where 
the  girl  was  waiting  for  it,  she  stepped  into  it  and 
was  borne  to  the  street. 

"A  narrow  escape,"  she  muttered,  as  she  turned 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping  69 

westward.  When  she  reached  Broadway  she 
paused.  She  was  hungry  and  remembered  that  it 
was  long  past  her  usual  lunch  hour.  Besides,  there 
were  several  little  things  which  she  felt  she  had  a 
right  to  purchase,  now  that  she  was  making  her 
own  living.  To  be  sure,  the  money  in  her  purse 
was  Julia's,  but  she  would  pay  it  back  when  she 
got  her  first  week's  salary.  Therefore,  as  she 
had  this  little  shopping  to  do,  she  would  not  hurry 
home. 

Stepping  into  a  lunch  room,  she  ordered  a  meal 
that  cost  more  than  her  usual  noon  repast.  Com- 
ing out  again  upon  Broadway,  she  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  happiness.  It  was  one  of  those  bril- 
liant, breezy  days  that  come  in  late  summer,  the 
sunshine  was  golden  and  not  too  hot;  it  was  good 
to  be  alive. 

The  mood  of  contentment  with  herself  and  the 
world  at  large  lingered  with  her  as  she  made  the 
purchases  which  she  persuaded  herself  were  ne- 
cessities. Since  she  must  wear  a  plain  shirtwaist 
to  business — at  least  since  Julia  said  she  must — 
she  certainly  ought  to  have  a  pretty  necktie  to 
wear  with  it.  This  selected,  she  remembered  that 
the  plain  sleeve  links  that  fastened  her  cuffs  looked 
cheap,  so  she  selected  a  pair  of  rolled  gold  ones. 
How  she  loved  jewelry !  she  thought  as  she  waited 
for  her  change.  Just  as  soon  as  she  was  getting 


7O  The  Two  Sisters 

a  really  good  salary  she  would  begin  to  buy  jew- 
elry for  herself. 

Yet  if  she  would  succeed,  she  said  to  herself, 
she  must  seem  successful.  If  her  employer  thought 
her  able  to  dress  well,  he  would  think  her  better 
worth  keeping  than  if  she  seemed  to  be  in  actual 
need  of  the  work  he  offered  her.  If  Julia  would 
only  appreciate  these  matters  she  would  not  mend 
and  darn  her  old  clothes  as  she  did.  Yes,  nothing 
succeeds  like  seeming  success.  This  thought  gave 
her  courage  to  purchase  before  she  left  the  store 
a  pair  of  side  combs  that  attracted  her  fancy. 
Those  she  was  now  wearing  had  a  dull,  common 
look  which  she  had  noticed  only  this  morning 
when  she  put  them  in  her  hair. 

On  glancing  into  her  purse  she  appreciated  that 
she  had  spent  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents 
of  Julia's  money — over  half  of  Julia's  weekly 
salary. 

"Oh,  well,"  Caryl  Marvin  told  herself,  "my 
own  salary  will  soon  be  ten  per  week,  so  where's 
the  harm!" 

It  was  late  afternoon.  Julia  Marvin  had  had 
an  anxious  day,  for  her  thoughts  had  been  with 
Caryl  in  her  new  position.  Remembering  her  own 
painful  discouragement  during  the  first  weeks  that 
she  had  been  at  Baird's,  the  older  girl's  heart 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping          71 

ached  for  the  little  sister  who  might  have  to  face 
the  same  depression  and  the  same  feeling  of  deso- 
lation. Yet  Julia  believed  that  if  Caryl  would 
only  have  courage  and  perseverance,  she  must, 
after  a  while,  become  as  much  interested  in  her 
work  as  she — Julia — was  in  hers. 

She  had  reached  this  juncture  in  her  medita- 
tions when  a  voice  speaking  her  name  called  her 
to  a  sudden  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  one  of 
the  men  in  authority  in  the  store  was  addressing 
her. 

"I  have  something  pleasant  to  tell  you,"  he  said, 
"but  I  have  been  too  busy  to  see  you  until  now.  I 
want  to  say  to  you  before  you  go  home  that  you 
are  to  be  transferred  to-morrow  to  another  coun- 
ter." 

Julia  felt  the  blood  rush  to  her  face.  "Oh,  am 
I  ?  Where  ?"  she  questioned  eagerly. 

"To  the  laces,"  replied  the  man.  "Are  you 
pleased?" 

"Indeed  I  am,"  the  girl  said,  "only  I  have  be- 
come accustomed  to  my  work  at  this  counter,  and 
I  am  very  ignorant  of  laces.  Still  they  are  such 
pretty  and  interesting  things  to  handle  that  I  am 
glad  I  am  to  be  in  that  department." 

"And  you  know,"  added  her  informer  in  a 
lower  voice,  "the  change  in  the  department  means 


72  The  Two  Sisters 

also  a  little  rise  in  salary,  not  much,  but  a  little, 
and  every  little  bit  counts." 

"Indeed  it  does !"  exclaimed  Julia.  So  earnest 
was  her  exclamation  that  the  man  looked  at  her 
keenly  and  wondered  just  how  badly  this  brave 
girl  needed  money. 

The  "brave  girl"  did  not  let  even  her  sister 
know  how  badly  she  did  need  it.  Slowly — be- 
cause of  her  rigid  economy — but  surely,  the  little 
sum  Julia  and  Caryl  Marvin  had  was  slipping 
away  to  pay  running  expenses.  Julia  often  denied 
herself  a  regular  luncheon  at  noon.  Caryl  hated 
frugality  as  she  hated  hard  work,  and,  when  she 
wanted  anything,  looked  no  further  forward  than 
the  present.  This  afternoon  she  reached  home 
several  hours  before  her  sister  and  was  lying 
down,  resting,  when  Julia  entered.  The  older  girl 
smiled  with  relief  as  she  noted  her  sister's  happy 
expression. 

"Well,  little  sister!"  she  exclaimed.  "From 
your  face  I  fancy  that  work  went  well.  I  have 
worried  about  you,  dear." 

"You  needn't  have  worried,"  answered  Caryl 
lightly,  returning  Julia's  kiss  of  greeting.  "I  got 
on  finely." 

"Good !"  Julia  ejaculated.  "I  am  so  glad,  dear ! 
I  want  to  hear  about  it." 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping  73 

"First  tell  me  what  kind  of  a  day  you  have 
had,"  demanded  Caryl. 

"You  are  a  dear,  unselfish  child  to  want  to  hear 
about  my  affairs  when  you  must  be  so  full  of  your 
own  experiences,"  said  Julia,  as  she  laid  off  her 
hat  and  seated  herself  on  the  side  of  the  bed  by 
Caryl.  "I  would  not  stop  to  tell  you  anything 
about  myself  just  now  if  it  were  not  that  I  have 
a  bit  of  good  news.  Dear,  I've  been  transferred 
to  the  lace  counter,  and  I've  had  a  rise  in  pay." 

"Good!"  Caryl  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands. 
"The  Marvin  fortunes  have  taken  a  turn!  How 
much  is  it?" 

"Only  five  more  a  month,"  said  Julia,  "that  is, 
twenty-six  a  month,  and  commissions.  But  in 
laces  the  commissions  are  bigger,  of  course,  than 
in  notions.  And,  besides,  it  shows  that  I've  been 
doing  good  work.  And  now,  tell  me  about  your 
new  position." 

"Guess  who  Kelley  Delaine  is,"  Caryl  said. 

"You  told  me  he  was  a  writer,"  answered  Julia. 
"Isn't  he?" 

"Of  course  he  is,  but  you've  seen  him  before." 

"Have  I ?    Where?"  asked  the  other,  mystified. 

"Judy — fancy — he  is  the  man  that  saved  my 
life  on  the  street  that  night!" 

"Is  he,  indeed?"  exclaimed  Julia.  "What  a 
strange  coincidence  I" 


74  The  Two  Sisters 

Caryl  told  only  what  she  thought  best,  omitting 
among  other  things  the  visit  of  Harry  Somerdyke. 
After  a  few  minutes  of  questions  and  answers, 
Julia  leaned  over  and  kissed  her  sister. 

"I  am  so  happy  for  you,  dear,"  she  said  fondly. 
"It  really  looks,  as  you  say,  as  if  with  strict  econ- 
omy we  might  get  on  fairly  well.  We  will  pay 
as  we  go,  and  make  every  penny  count.  It  is  a 
good  plan  to  make  out  beforehand  a  list  of  neces- 
sary expenses,  and  try  to  adhere  to  that.  Now, 
for  instance,  for  this  week  you  have  money  for 
car  fares  and  luncheons,  until  Sunday,  you  know, 
and " 

Caryl  interrupted  her.  "Indeed  I  haven't!" 
she  declared. 

"But  I  handed  you  three  dollars  only  last 
night,"  Julia  reminded  her. 

"I  know  you  did,"  Caryl  admitted,  "but  I  had 
to  get  my  luncheon,  and  then  I  bought  a  new  tie — 
for  my  old  one  was  disgraceful — and  some  cuff 
links  and  a  pair  of  side  combs.  Oh,  Judy" — with 
a  sudden  burst  of  indignation  as  she  noted  her 
sister's  disapproving  expression  of  countenance — 
"don't  look  at  me  as  if  I  had  committed  an  actual 
sin,  just  because  I  have  been  obliged  to  provide 
myself  with  the  bare  necessities  of  life  I  I've  got 
to  live,  haven't  I?" 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping          75 

In  a  silence  that  meant  disagreement,  they 
made  themselves  ready  to  go  out  to  dinner.  Julia 
had  pleaded  vainly,  trying  to  point  out  to  the 
younger  girl  that  they  must  make  their  expenses 
fit  their  income.  She  confessed  some  of  her  own 
economies,  hoping  thereby  to  impress  Caryl  with 
the  necessity  of  care  in  spending  their  money. 

"At  first  I  used  to  get  a  substantial,  though 
plain,  luncheon  every  day,"  Julia  said.  "But  for 
the  past  two  months  I  have  bought  a  five-cent  box 
of  crackers  on  my  way  to  the  store,  and  at  noon 
I  have  eaten  those  instead  of  going  out  with  the 
other  girls." 

"They  must  think  you're  a  regular  cheap 
skate,"  Caryl  observed  heartlessly.  "Besides  that, 
you're  getting  thin  and  losing  all  your  prettiness. 
You'll  soon  look  old  if  you  go  on  like  this." 

"At  nineteen?"  Julia  queried.  "Hardly,  I 
think — though  goodness  knows  I  feel  old  enough 
sometimes!" 

There  was  a  bitter  note  in  her  voice,  and  yet 
she  was  not  usually  bitter.  But  Caryl's  selfishness 
irritated  her  and  baffled  her.  The  younger  girl 
started  up  angrily  at  her  sister's  tone. 

"Oh,  Julia !"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  stop  telling 
me  of  all  your  unselfish  acts!  I  did  buy  some 
things  this  afternoon  with  your  money,  but  it  was 
only  borrowed  anyway,  and  I  assure  you  that 


76  The  Two  Sisters 

every  one  of  your  precious  cents  will  be  returned 
as  soon  as  I  get  my  first  salary.  Do  let's  talk  of 
something  else  now!" 

Argument  was  futile,  and  Julia,  recognizing 
this  fact,  said  no  more,  but,  as  it  was  late,  began  to 
make  her  usual  dinner  toilette.  This  consisted  of 
taking  down  her  hair  and  doing  it  up  again,  wash- 
ing her  face  and  hands,  and  putting  on  a  fresh 
collar.  This  done,  she  proposed  that  they  go  out 
to  dinner  now,  and  Caryl,  agreeing,  began,  as 
soon  as  the  street  was  reached,  to  chat  lightly  and 
happily  as  if  there  had  been  no  uncomfortable 
feeling  between  her  and  her  companion.  Her 
facile  nature  made  this  easy,  moreover  to-night 
she  was  too  well  satisfied  with  her  new  position, 
and  the  possibilities  it  seemed  to  offer,  to  remain 
long  in  a  bad  humor. 

The  pair  walked  along  Twenty-second  Street 
toward  Seventh  Avenue,  and  turned  into  the  res- 
taurant where  they  were  in  the  habit  of  taking 
their  evening  meal.  Although  the  outer  air  had 
been  clear  and  invigorating  all  day,  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  restaurant  was  warm  and  heavy  with 
the  odor  of  many  dead  and  gone  dinners.  The 
odor  sickened  Julia  slightly,  but,  though  Caryl 
sniffed  contemptuously,  she  declared  that  she  was 
"hungry  enough  to  eat  anything." 

The  girls  had  learned  when  they  first  moved 
into  Mrs.  Halloran's  house  that  at  this  eating 


Caryl  Goes  Shopping  77 

place  each  could  get  a  meal  ticket  allowing  two 
meals  a  day  for  three  and  a  half  dollars  a  week, 
but  as  they  did  not  breakfast  or  lunch  in  the  res- 
taurant they  made  an  arrangement  by  which  they 
could  get  their  dinners  here  for  three  dollars  a 
week.  The  cooking  was  not  bad,  but  lacked  va- 
riety, and  the  food  was  seldom  served  hot.  Still, 
for  the  price,  it  was  the  best  that  the  sisters  could 
do  in  their  neighborhood.  There  were  other  per- 
sons lodging  near  by  who  ate  here  regularly,  and 
occasionally  one  of  the  tables  would  be  taken  by 
a  party  of  a  half  dozen  diners  who  would  order 
several  bottles  of  the  light  red  wine  served  in  the 
place,  then  chat  and  smoke  until*  a  late  hour.  As 
a  rule  Julia  and  Caryl  dined  so  early  that  such 
groups  were  only  arriving  when  they  took  their 
departure.  This  evening,  however,  the  girls  were 
an  hour  later  than  usual,  and  many  of  the  tables 
were  deserted.  They  were  almost  through  their 
dinner  before  Caryl  uttered  a  low  exclamation 
that  made  Julia  look  up  startled.  "What's  the 
matter?"  she  asked. 

"Don't  look  now,"  said  Caryl,  "but  I  never 
noticed  until  this  minute  that  one  of  the  men  at 
that  table  over  there  is  the  very  man  who  fol- 
lowed us  on  the  day  we  moved  to  Mrs.  Hallo- 
ran's.  He  laughed  so  loudly  just  now  that  it  at- 
tracted my  attention,  and  I  looked  over  to  see  who 
he  was." 


VII 

AN  INTRODUCTION  AND  AN  INVITATION 

THE  color  left  Julia's  face  even  while  she 
chided  herself  for  her  foolish  fears.  What  could 
any  man  do  to  her  or  Caryl  here  in  this  public 
restaurant  or  on  the  short  block  on  the  lighted 
street  between  them  and  their  room?  But  her 
lips  twitched  nervously  as  she  asked:  "  Do  you 
think  he  recognized  you?" 

"Indeed  he  did,"  replied  Caryl,  "and  he  bowed 
and  smiled  to  me.  Of  course,  I  cut  him  and 
looked  as  if  I  had  never  seen  him  before." 

"Let's  hurry  through  dinner  and  get  away  be- 
fore he  leaves,"  proposed  Julia.  For  her  own 
part  she  could  not  eat  another  mouthful. 

"That  wouldn't  do  any  good,"  declared  Caryl, 
"for  all  those  men  finished  eating  long  ago,  and 
are  just  drinking  and  smoking  now.  They're  a 
common  looking  lot." 

"Well,  don't  look  at  them,"  counseled  the 
older  girl,  and  she  pretended  to  be  engaged  in  the 
food  on  the  plate  before  her. 

78 


An  Introduction  79 

In  spite  of  their  effort  to  appear  unconcerned, 
the  two  girls  decided  they  did  not  want  dessert 
and  coffee,  and  had  laid  down  their  napkins  and 
risen  from  their  chairs  preparatory  to  departure 
when  a  dark  shadow  loomed  up  beside  them  and 
a  masculine  voice  asked: 

"Why  in  such  a  hurry,  young  ladies?  May  I 
not  see  you  home?  It  does  not  look  well  for 
pretty  girls  to  be  on  the  street  alone  at  night." 

With  a  start,  Julia  looked  about  her,  noting,  to 
her  dismay,  that  the  man  who  had  waited  on  her 
and  Caryl  had  just  gone  out  of  the  room,  and  that 
the  cashier,  usually  at  the  desk  by  the  door,  had 
left  his  post  for  a  minute.  What  should  she  do? 

But  there  was  no  tremor  in  the  cold  tones  with 
which  she  replied,  laying  her  hand  on  Caryl's  arm 
and  drawing  her  toward  the  door. 

"You  evidently  mistake  us  for  some  other  per- 
sons," she  said  bravely.  "We  do  not  know  you, 
and  I  must  ask  you  to  allow  us  to  pass." 

But  the  man  remained  standing  in  front  of  her, 
blocking  her  way  and  laughing  coarsely. 

Julia's  assumed  courage  forsook  her  for  a  mo- 
ment. As  she  looked  helplessly  about  her  she  was 
amazed  to  hear  Caryl  speak  in  cool,  firm  tones. 

"You  will  let  us  pass,"  said  the  young  girl,  "or 
I  will  summon  the  proprietor  and  have  you  put 
out  of  this  place  I"  Then,  as  the  man  only  laughed 


8o  The  Two  Sisters 

again,  Caryl,  now  angry  and  flushed,  turned  sud- 
denly from  him  to  the  table  at  which  his  compan- 
ions were  still  seated.  As  she  did  so,  one  of  them 
got  up,  and,  as  if  answering  an  unspoken  sum- 
mons from  her,  came  forward. 

"You,"  she  said  to  him,  "do  not  look  like  the 
kind  of  a  man  who  would  bully  two  defenseless 
girls.  Will  you  kindly  ask  your  friend  to  let  us 
alone?" 

The  man  she  addressed  looked  painfully  em- 
barrassed as  he  met  her  keen  gaze. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied  awkwardly.  Then,  in 
a  lower  voice,  he  muttered,  "You  must  excuse 
Dan — he's  been  drinking." 

"That  is  evident,"  remarked  Caryl  stiffly. 

The  man  to  whom  Caryl  had  appealed  laid  his 
hand  on  the  bully's  arm.  "Come  along,  Dan,"  he 
coaxed.  "Don't  molest  the  ladies.  Here  comes 
the  proprietor  now,  and  you  don't  want  him  to 
throw  you  out,  do  you?" 

The  half  intoxicated  man  bowed  elaborately. 
"Excuse  me,  ladies,"  he  said,  "and  allow  me  to 
wish  you  a  very  pleasant  evening.  I  hope  we 
may  meet  again." 

He  moved  aside  to  allow  the  girls  to  go  out, 
but  Julia  heard  him  murmur  as  Caryl  passed  him, 
"I'll  see  you  later,  little  girl,  no  matter  what  hap- 


An  Introduction  81 

pens,"  and  the  older  sister  shuddered  at  the  words. 
As  she  and  Caryl  hurried  home  she  felt  as  if  her 
feet  were  weighted  heavily.  She  could  hardly  be- 
lieve that  only  this  afternoon  her  heart  had  been 
light  and  that  she  had  looked  toward  a  placid 
future  here  in  New  York.  Once  again  the  sense 
of  responsibility  for  her  sister  oppressed  her  and 
she  appreciated  how  careful  a  girl  must  be  who 
would  live  safely  in  the  heart  of  a  great  city.  She 
was  glad  that  Caryl's  quick  speech  had  relieved  a 
painful  situation,  but  how  did  the  child  dare  assert 
herself  as  she  had  done?  When  the  two  girls 
had  reached  their  room  Julia  asked  the  question 
that  was  in  her  mind. 

"Caryl,"  she  said,  sinking  exhausted  into  the 
first  chair  she  reached,  "you  certainly  were  plucky 
to  appeal  to  that  strange  man  as  you  did,  but  how 
did  you  dare  do  it?  I  was  so  frightened  that  I 
could  not  utter  another  word." 

Caryl  laughed  lightly.  "Why  were  you  so 
frightened?"  she  asked.  "I  wasn't." 

"You  weren't?  Well,  you  looked  uncomfort- 
able enough  when  that  beast  first  spoke  to  us," 
Julia  reminded  her. 

"Of  course  I  did,  for  it  mortified  me  to  have 
him  speak  to  us  when  he  was  evidently  such  a 
common  sort  of  a  chap,  and  in  a  place  where  we 
are  known  by  the  proprietor  and  waiters.  But  I 


82  The  Two  Sisters 

wasn't  afraid  of  the  man  himself — only  of  the 
scene  we  might  have  to  make  to  get  rid  of  him. 
I  would  hate  to  have  people  see  us  in  such  a  com- 
mon set  as  that.  But  as  to  being  afraid  of  any 
man — why,"  with  a  fascinating  smile,  "I  flatter 
myself  I  can  snub  anything  masculine  in  New 
York  if  I  want  to." 

Julia  looked  at  her  sister,  an  anxious  expression 
gathering  in  her  eyes.  "I  wish  you  were  not  so 
sure  of  yourself,  dear,"  she  said  gently. 

"Why?"  questioned  Caryl,  puzzled.  "You 
found  my  nerve  mighty  convenient  a  half  hour 
ago,  when  it  got  us  out  of  an  uncomfortable 
scrape."  ,-. 

"I  know  it,"  assented  Julia.  "But,  child,  you 
do  not  know  men,  and  yet  you  feel  that  you  can 
cope  with  them  and  with  their  ways." 

Caryl  smiled  in  a  superior  way.  "Since  I  came 
to  New  York,"  she  said,  "I  have  grown  independ- 
ent and  sure  of  myself,  and  I  have  met  more  men 
than  you  imagine.  I  know  several  at  school — 

teachers,  etc. — and  Mr.  Delaine  and  his  friend 
_____» 

She  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  her  words,  and 
smiled  again,  this  time  with  satisfaction  when 
Julia  asked:  "Mr.  Delaine's  friend.  You  did  not 
tell  me  that  you  met  a  friend  of  his!" 

"But  I  did  meet  him,  nevertheless,"  said  Caryl 


An  Introduction  83 

demurely,  "and  he  was  most  agreeable  and  polite 
to  me.  And" — with  a  sigh  of  gratified  vanity — 
"I  do  not  think  that  my  good-looking  employer 
was  pleased  at  having  him  meet  me." 

"I  am  glad  he  wasn't!"  declared  Julia.  "I 
think  the  more  of  him  for  not  wishing  his  sten- 
ographer to  meet  any  man  who  happens  into  his 
rooms.  Oh,  Caryl,  dear,  I  wish  you  could  live  a 
more  protected  life !" 

She  got  up  suddenly  and,  going  swiftly  to  her 
little  sister,  put  her  arms  about  her  and  held  her 
close  to  her. 

"You  are  so  young  and  so  inexperienced,  dear 
Caryl,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  so  afraid  that  some- 
thing may  happen  to  you !  For  you  are  all  I  have, 
little  sister." 

Caryl  returned  the  caress  lightly  and  carelessly. 
"Happen  to  me!"  she  exclaimed.  "I'm  safe 
enough !  I  declare,  Judy,  you  are  getting  to  be  a 
fussy  old  maid.  Come,  let's  go  to  bed!  I'm 
sleepy." 

As  she  spoke  she  crossed  the  room  to  pull  down 
the  window  shade,  which  was  flapping  in  the  night 
breeze,  but  when  she  reached  the  window  she 
paused  and  uttered  a  low  exclamation — part 
laugh,  part  dismay. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Julia  quickly,  go- 
ing toward  her. 


84  The  Two  Sisters 

"Why,  Judy,"  said  Caryl  with  an  excited  giggle, 
"that  masher  from  the  restaurant  is  standing  right 
down  in  the  street,  in  front  of  this  house,  and  is 
looking  up  at  this  window.  And — why — yes — 

he  is Oh,  Judy! — look! — he  is  lifting  his 

hat  to  me!  See?" 

But  Julia  did  not  see,  for,  with  an  exclamation 
of  angry  disgust,  she  closed  the  window  sharply 
and  pulled  down  the  shade. 

At  nine  o'clock  on  the  second  morning  in  her 
new  position  Caryl  Marvin  rang  the  door  bell  of 
Kelley  Delaine's  apartment.  As  yesterday,  the 
author  himself  opened  the  door  for  her. 

"Good  morning!"  he  said,  with  a  pleasant 
smile.  "Let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  prompt- 
ness, Miss  Marvin.  It  is  a  rather  rare  virtue 
among  stenographers,  I  believe." 

"Why  confine  tardiness  to  stenographers?" 
queried  the  girl,  flippantly. 

"I  might  go  farther  and  include  all  women  were 
I  ungallant  enough  to  do  so,"  answered  Delaine, 
laughing  lightly  as  he  led  the  way  into  his  study. 
"We  will  begin  work  at  once  if  you  are  ready," 
he  added. 

"Entirely  ready,"  Caryl  assured  him.  "What 
is  it  to  be  to-day — copying  or  dictation?" 

"I  am  going  to  try  to  dictate  to  you  for  a  little," 


An  Introduction  85 

he  told  her.  "I  have  a  story  running  in  my  mind 
and  I  want  to  get  it  down  upon  paper  as  soon  as 
I  can,  so  we'll  do  it  this  morning." 

Going  to  the  door,  Delaine  called  his  servant. 
"I  don't  want  to  be  disturbed  this  morning, 
Wang,"  he  ordered  when  the  Chinaman  appeared. 
"Don't  forget.  If  you  let  anybody  in  I'll  cut  you 
up  into  little  chunks.  Understand?"  he  asked 
with  a  grin. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Caryl,  who 
had  removed  her  hat  and  jacket,  "we'll  begin. 
I'm  afraid  it  will  be  rather  awkward  for  us  both 
at  first,  that  is,  unless  you  have  taken  dictation 
before." 

"I  am  not  a  real  expert,  Mr.  Delaine,"  the  girl 
admitted.  "I  have,  however,  taken  down  dicta- 
tion for  my  sister  sometimes.  She  speaks  very 
slowly,  though." 

The  man  hesitated.  "Is  your  sister  doing  much 
work  now?"  he  asked,  almost  timidly. 

"A  good  deal,"  the  girl  replied  with  a  twinge 
of  uneasiness.  "Shall  we  start  now?" 

"It's  queer,"  mused  Delaine,  ignoring  her  ques- 
tion, "that  I  can't  remember  seeing  her  name  in 
print.  What  magazines  does  she  do  most  work 
for?" 

"I  told  you  yesterday  that  she  doesn't  sign  her 
name  to  things,"  Caryl  said  with  some  asperity, 


86  The  Two  Sisters 

her  embarrassment  making  her  speak  more  sharp- 
ly than  was  quite  becoming  in  a  stenographer  ad- 
dressing her  employer.  "I  am  ready  whenever 
you  are,  Mr.  Delaine." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  starting  from  his  rev- 
erie, "I  beg  your  pardon." 

He  began  to  dictate,  and  the  girl  bent  over  her 
pad,  forgetting  all  else  in  her  endeavor  to  keep 
up  with  the  hesitating  speech.  For  the  first  twenty 
minutes  she  found  this  comparatively  easy,  for 
the  author  was  not  accustomed  to  composing 
aloud,  and  found  himself  decidedly  ill  at  ease. 
After  the  first  half  hour,  however,  his  self-con- 
sciousness was  forgotten  by  him  in  his  own  interest 
in  the  story  he  was  creating,  and  his  voice  strength- 
ened as  he  gained  confidence.  For  a  time  Caryl 
tried  to  make  her  hurrying  pencil  keep  pace  with 
his  quickening  words,  but  at  last  she  stopped  and 
turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  protest. 

"Would  you  mind  going  just  a  little  bit  slower, 
Mr.  Delaine?"  she  asked,  half  fearfully. 

"Pray  excuse  me!"  Delaine  exclaimed.  "I 
didn't  appreciate  that  I  was  speaking  too  rapidly." 

"That's  all  right,"  Caryl  assured  him.  "I 
spoke  because  I  was  afraid  I  might  miss  some- 
thing. You  were  speaking  pretty  fast,  and  I  am  a 
little  too  new  at  this  kind  of  work  to  be  able  to 
keep  up  with  rapid  dictation.  I  hope,"  looking 


An  Introduction  87 

at  him  and  widening  her  blue  eyes  into  an  expres- 
sion that  was  meant  to  indicate  unsophistication, 
"that  by  the  time  I  have  been  here  a  little  longer 
I  will  do  a  great  deal  better  than  I  do  now." 

"Oh,  you'll  be  all  right,  no  doubt,"  the  man 
said,  disregarding  her  apparent  humility.  "Are 
you  all  straightened  out  now?" 

"Yes,"  said  Caryl,  turning  over  a  page  in  her 
notebook.  "Go  on." 

But  by  the  time  that  the  author  was  well  under 
way  again,  the  doorbell  rang  and  he  stopped, 
frowning  in  vexation,  and  muttering  something 
under  his  breath.  Wang  padded  noiselessly 
through  the  room  and  out  into  the  hall,  from 
which  there  speedily  issued  sounds  of  violent  argu- 
ment. In  a  moment  the  door  of  the  study  was 
flung  wide  open  and  Harry  Somerdyke  entered 
unannounced.  His  face  was  flushed,  but  he  smiled 
cheerfully  at  Delaine  and  bowed  low  to  Caryl, 
who  nodded  back  at  him  with  a  look  of  welcome. 

"I  almost  had  to  kill  that  Chinaman  of  yours 
before  I  could  get  in  here,  Kel,"  he  informed  his 
host.  "I  hated  to  mangle  him,  but  he  got  in  my 
way." 

"It's  just  as  well  that  you  did  the  job,"  re- 
turned Delaine,  the  frown  of  vexation  deepening 
on  his  face.  "I  would  have  done  it  myself  other- 
wise. I  told  Wang  expressly  that  I  was  not  to 


88  The  Two  Sisters 

be  disturbed  this  morning.  I  ought  to  fire  him 
for  letting  you  in  in  spite  of  my  strict  commands 
along  that  line." 

"But,  you  see,  he  didn't  let  me  in,"  answered 
Somerdyke  nonchalantly,  and  chuckling  in  self- 
satisfaction.  "He  said  I  could  not  possibly  see 
you,  but  I  proved  that  I  could  by  coming  right 
along  in." 

"And  you'll  go  right  along  out,  too,  Harry,  if 
you  please,"  the  author  urged.  "I'm  very  busy 
this  morning,  and  have  not  time  for  talk." 

"I  gathered  as  much  from  Wang  and  from 
your  cordial  tone  of  welcome,  old  man.  I  just 
came  to  see  if  you're  not  going  to  play  a  little  ten- 
nis with  me  this  afternoon,"  suggested  the  other. 

"That's  not  what  you  butted  in  here  for,  and 
you  know  it,"  declared  Delaine,  smiling  in  spite 
of  himself.  "What  do  you  want,  anyway?" 

"Well,  if  you  insist  upon  a  categorical  answer," 
replied  Somerdyke,  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  "I'll 
have  to  give  it  in  the  presence  of  a  witness.  I 
want  to  know  if  Miss  Marlin  won't  take  pity  on 
a  stranger  marooned  in  this  great  and  lonely  city 
and  do  him  the  favor  of  lunching  with  him  to- 
day. Won't  you  please?"  he  urged,  turning  sud- 
denly to  Caryl,  a  look  of  admiration  in  his  mock- 
ing eyes. 

At   his   blunt   invitation    Caryl    felt    the   hot 


An  Introduction  89 

blood  rush  to  her  cheeks.  A  part  of  her  seem- 
ing confusion  was  due  to  embarrassment,  for  she 
felt  Delaine's  eyes  fixed  upon  her  in  silent  ap- 
praisal, but  her  predominant  feeling  was  a  thrill 
of  triumph.  If  she  had  voiced  her  thoughts  her 
words  would  probably  have  been  "At  last  I"  Af- 
ter these  long  dreary  months  in  the  city,  where 
nobody  worth  while  had  seemed  to  consider  her 
or  pay  her  attention,  the  most  attractive  man  she 
had  ever  met  was  asking  her  to  lunch  with  him, 
and  this  was  only  the  second  time  he  had  met  her ! 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  wanted  to  go 
with  Somerdyke,  yet  her  feminine  instinct  warned 
her  not  to  seem  too  eager  to  do  so,  that  she  would 
gain  by  an  appearance  of  reluctance.  And,  while 
she  hesitated,  Delaine  turned  almost  sharply  to 
his  unceremonious  visitor. 

"Really,  Harry,"  he  said  brusquely,  "I  don't 
particularly  relish  having  you  make  a  convenience 
of  my  rooms.  Nor  do  I  believe,"  he  added  with 
a  change  of  tone,  "that  Miss  Marvin  cares  for 
that  kind  of  an  invitation." 

Somerdyke  laughed  recklessly.  "Don't  preach, 
Kelley!  Surely  there  is  no  harm  in  my  asking  a 
lady  whom  I  have  met  in  a  formal  and  correct 
fashion  to  lunch  with  me.  This  is  not  a  monop- 
oly," he  muttered  in  a  lower  voice  and  with  sig- 
nificant intonation. 


9O  The  Two  Sisters 

Caryl,  watching  the  two  men,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling with  excitement,  saw  the  dark  color  mount  to 
Delaine's  face.  But,  controlling  any  further  evi- 
dence of  irritation,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
replied  with  a  tolerant  smile. 

"Though  you  have  lived  in  South  America  for 
the  last  five  years,  Harry,"  he  remarked  slowly, 
"I  fancy  that  you  have  not  forgotten  that  among 
civilized  people  a  man  usually  knows  a  young 
girl's  family  rather  well  before  he  ventures  to  ask 
her  to  lunch  alone  with  him." 

Somerdyke's  eyes  narrowed  and  he  thrust  out 
his  jaw  stubbornly. 

"Instead  of  holding  a  brief  for  Miss  Marlin, 
Delaine,"  he  said,  uwhy  don't  you  let  the  lady 
speak  for  herself?  I  think  that  she  feels  that  she 
knows  me  well  enough  to  risk  going  to  lunch  with 
me,  desperate  character  though  I  appear  to  be." 

"Certainly,"  answered  Delaine,  still  suppress- 
ing any  manifestation  of  anger.  "But,  Harry,  the 
lady's  name  is  Marvin,  not  Marlin." 

It  was  Somerdyke's  turn  to  flush,  and  for  a 
second  he  stood  silent,  biting  his  lip.  Then  he 
took  a  step  toward  Caryl. 

"Come,"  he  said  impetuously,  "you're  going  to 
take  pity  on  a  poor  lonely  man  and  go  to  lunch 
with  him,  aren't  you?  Please  end  all  this  squab- 
bling by  saying  'yes.' ' 


An  Introduction  91 

But  Caryl  still  hesitated,  and  looked  uncertainly 
from  one  man  to  the  other.  Somerdyke  stood 
directly  in  her  line  of  vision,  his  lean  face  animated 
and  expectant.  She  noted  with  swift,  silent  ap- 
proval how  well  his  suit  of  English  tweed  fitted 
him  and  how  well  groomed  he  was — from  his 
tan  shoes  to  his  sleek  hair.  Then  she  looked  at 
her  employer  as  he  leaned  nonchalantly  against 
the  mantelshelf,  a  cynical  half  smile  on  his  face. 
Caryl  hated  him  for  that  smile.  He  seemed  so 
certain  of  what  she  was  going  to  do.  Did  he 
really  imagine  that  because  he  disapproved  of  her 
lunching  with  his  friend  she  would  refuse  the  in- 
vitation? At  the  thought  she  tossed  her  head 
with  a  sudden  defiant  movement,  and  spoke 
quietly,  but  decidedly. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  lunch  with  you,  Mr. 
Somerdyke,"  she  said. 

She  looked  again  at  Delaine  as  she  spoke.  The 
hateful  smile  broadened.  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"The  matter  appears  to  be  settled,"  he  ob- 
served indifferently.  "I  would  merely  suggest, 
Harry,  that  since  I  am  employing  Miss  Marvin 
until  noon  you  are  interfering  with  her  work  and 
mine  by  staying  here  any  longer  just  now.  Please 
complete  your  arrangements,  and  then  go  on  and 
let  me  get  down  to  business  again." 


92  The  Two  Sisters 

"Your  politeness  is  in  keeping  with  your  ideas 
of  hospitality,  Kelley,"  sneered  Somerdyke.  "I 
congratulate  you  upon  them  both.  Miss  Marvin, 
I  will  be  in  the  vestibule  downstairs  at  twelve. 
Good  morning!" 

He  bowed  to  the  girl  and  left  the  room  without 
another  word  to  his  host.  Delaine  watched  him 
until  he  disappeared  into  the  hall,  and  the  cynical 
smile  was  still  on  his  lips.  When  the  outside 
door  had  slammed  he  turned  to  his  stenographer. 

"Now,  if  you  are  quite  ready,  Miss  Marvin," 
he  said  impersonally,  "we  will  try  to  go  on." 

Without  answering,  Caryl  took  up  her  note- 
book. For  a  minute  Delaine  stood  silent,  looking 
steadily  at  the  girl.  Her  pretty,  flower-like  face 
was  flushed.  A  shaft  of  sunlight,  streaming  in 
through  the  window,  touched  her  hair  and  turned 
it  to  bright  gold.  Once  she  flashed  a  quick  glance 
at  him  and  he  noticed  how  clear  and  childlike  her 
eyes  were.  At  last  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked 
at  him  again,  this  time  interrogatively. 

"Your  sister  is  at  home,  I  suppose?"  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"Yes,"  answered  Caryl  thoughtlessly. 

He  stood  silent  for  a  moment  longer,  a  puzzled, 
almost  anxious,  frown  wrinkling  his  forehead. 
The  frown  was  still  there  when  he  began  to  speak. 

"You  will  excuse  me,  I  hope,  Miss  Marvin,"  he 
said  slowly,  "if  I  seem  officious  or,  in  other  words, 


An  Introduction  93 

if  I  'butt  in'  upon  your  affairs.  But  don't  you 
think  that  perhaps  it  would  be  wise  to  consult  your 
sister  before  you  accept  any  invitation  from  a  man 
whom  you  scarcely  know?  Now  don't  be  vexed" 
— as  he  saw  her  flush — "for  I  mean  it  kindly.  You 
are  very  young,  and  you  don't  know  life  very  well 
yet.  And,  anyway,"  with  a  sudden  smile,  "it  won't 
mar  your  enjoyment  of  any  pleasure  to  know  that 
your  sister  knows  of  it  and  approves  of  it,  now, 
will  it?" 

He  stopped;  then,  as  she  did  not  reply,  he  spoke 
again,  but  in  a  more  formal  tone. 

"I  have  decided,  upon  second  thoughts,"  he  told 
her,  "not  to  dictate  any  more  this  morning.  There 
is  some  business  I  can  attend  to  instead — for," 
with  a  forced  laugh,  "Somerdyke's  interruption 
has  thrown  me  off  the  track  of  thought.  So,  Miss 
Marvin,  I  will  not  detain  you  any  longer — though 
of  course  if  you  are  not  ready  to  leave  yet  you  are 
at  liberty  to  remain  here  as  long  as  you  wish." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  coldly. 

"Here,"  he  added,  "is  to-day's  paper  if  you  wish 
to  look  it  over  while  you  are  waiting.  Good 
morning!" 

"Good  morning,"  replied  the  girl,  without 
meeting  his  keen  gaze. 

Listening,  after  he  had  left  the  room,  she  heard 
him  speak  to  Wang  in  the  outer  hall,  then  go  out 
of  the  apartment. 


VIII 

DELAINE   VISITS    BAIRD's    SHOP 

FOR  some  minutes  after  Kelley  Delaine  went 
out  Caryl  sat  motionless,  just  where  he  had  left 
her.  She  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  cry.  She  re- 
sented his  interference  in  her  plans,  yet  in  the  bot- 
tom of  her  heart  she  appreciated  that  he  had  right 
on  his  side.  But  why  need  there  always  be  some- 
thing to  mar  her  enjoyment,  just  when  she  might 
be  so  happy  in  anticipation  of  the  first  bit  of 
pleasure  she  had  had  in  New  York?  Delaine 
had  to  remind  her  what  her  sister  would  say. 
What  did  he  know  about  her  sister,  anyway?  Ab- 
solutely nothing!  He  had  seen  her  once  and  then 
only  for  a  moment,  so  how  did  he  know  what  kind 
of  a  girl  she  was?  And  even  if  he  did  know,  what 
business  was  it  of  his  where  his  stenographer  went 
or  what  she  did?  Suddenly  her  vanity  suggested 
a  solution  to  her  question.  He  was  jealous  of 
Somerdyke.  That  was  it.  He  was  angry  and  re- 
sentful because  his  friend  had  gotten  ahead  of  him 
in  asking  the  girl  out  to  luncheon. 

At  this  thought  Caryl's  spirits  rose,  the  smile 

94 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop     95 

returned  to  her  lips  and  the  light  to  her  eyes. 
She  glanced  at  the  clock  and  saw  that  it  still 
lacked  an  hour  of  the  time  that  she  was  to  meet 
Somerdyke.  She  might  begin  to  transcribe  some 
of  the  dictation  that  she  had  taken  down  in  short- 
hand. She  glanced  over  her  notes  and  tried  to 
read  the  first  sentence  of  Delaine's  story.  She 
found  it  hard  work,  and  was  disturbed  because  it 
took  her  almost  five  minutes  to  decipher  twenty- 
five  words. 

How  would  she  ever  get  along  if  it  was  so  diffi- 
cult to  read  her  own  characters?  Still  she  com- 
forted herself  with  the  thought  that  practice  would 
perfect  her  in  this  line.  Besides  she  was  so  nerv- 
ous now  that  she  could  not  concentrate  her 
thoughts.  Kelley  Delaine  had — she  mused  with 
vexation — made  matters  hard  for  her  by  his  as- 
sumption of  authority.  A  jealous  man  was  so 
unreasonable.  Then  she  smiled  again  and  decided 
that,  as  so  much  of  the  morning  was  gone,  it  would 
be  foolish  to  fuss  over  her  work  any  longer.  If 
she  hurried  she  might  be  able  to  go  home  and  put 
on  her  best  dress  before  12  o'clock.  She  did  not 
pause  to  reflect  that  if  Somerdyke  noticed  the 
change  in  her  costume  he  would  attribute  it  to  a 
desire  on  her  part  to  impress  him.  She  was  too 
eager  to  be  cautious  or  to  feel  a  proper  sense  of 
pride. 


96  The  Two  Sisters 

Donning  her  hat  and  jacket,  she  hastened  from 
the  apartment,  leaving  her  notes  behind  her  on 
the  typewriter  table.  When  she  reached  the  street 
she  ran  for  a  passing  car  and  transferred  from 
that  to  a  line  that  went  near  her  home.  The 
weather  had  changed  since  yesterday,  the  atmos- 
phere was  warm  and  muggy  and  the  humidity  in- 
tense. In  her  room  Caryl  tore  off  her  shirtwaist 
and  serge  skirt  and  felt  the  perspiration  course 
down  her  face.  Without  waiting  to  pick  up  her 
clothing  from  the  floor  where  she  had  dropped 
it,  she  put  on  her  light  summer  silk  and  her  best 
hat,  washed  her  hands  at  the  sink  in  the  hall,  fast- 
ened a  veil  with  large  dots  over  her  face  and  drew 
on  her  only  pair  of  light  silk  gloves.  Looking  in 
the  mirror,  she  noted  that  she  was  flushed  crimson 
and  that  the  veil  was  already  damp  and  clung  to 
her  cheeks.  The  sight  annoyed  her  and  tears 
sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  it's  hateful  to  be  poor!"  she  muttered. 
"If  I  was  rich  I  would  have  a  maid  to  help  me 
dress,  and  I  would  not  have  to  slave  and  get  all 
my  fun  on  the  sly.  I  hate  this  life,  and  if  ever  I 
get  a  chance  to  get  out  of  it,  I'll  do  it!  I  don't 
care  what  Julia  and  that  prig  of  a  man  say  to  the 
contrary!  It's  none  of  their  business!" 

On  her  way  to  the  front  door  she  met  her  land- 
lady, who  started  with  surprise.  "Why,  good 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop     97 

morning,  Miss  Caryl!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
thought  you  was  workin'.  I  hope  nothings  hap- 
pened?" 

"What  should  have  happened?"  asked  Caryl, 
somewhat  tartly. 

"I  only  meant,"  explained  the  kind-hearted 
Irish  woman,  "that  seein'  you  here  at  noon  when 
you  don't  generally  get  back  till  late  afternoon 
made  me  wonder  if  anything  was  wrong.  But" — 
with  a  glance  at  the  girl's  costume — "I  see  from 
your  dress  that  it's  pleasure,  not  sickness,  that's 
brought  you  home." 

"Yes,"  said  Caryl  awkwardly.  "A  friend  and 
I  are  going  to  lunch." 

The  woman  looked  at  her  with  an  anxious  ex- 
pression. "That's  nice,"  she  said  dubiously. 
"Well,  take  good  care  of  yourself,  won't  you, 
dearie?" 

"Of  course  I  will!"  retorted  Caryl  testily. 
"What  harm  could  come  of  a  nice  girl  and  myself 
lunching  together?" 

In  her  eagerness  to  be  gone  Caryl  Marvin 
brushed  almost  roughly  past  Mrs.  Halloran,  who 
looked  after  her,  the  expression  of  anxiety  in- 
creased rather  than  lessened  by  the  girl's  flippant 
speech. 

"I  mistrust  me  it  ain't  a  girl  you'll  be  lunchin' 
with,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  although  there 


98  The  Two  Sisters 

was  nobody  near  to  hear  her  soliloquy.  "It's  a 
hundred  pities  when  a  workin'  girl's  as  pretty  as 
you  and  so  silly,  too.  It's  your  sister  I'd  trust — 
not  you — poor  girl  I" 

Her  exclamation  of  compassion  was  intended 
rather  for  Julia  than  for  Julia's  sister. 

It  was  with  flushed  cheeks  that  Caryl  alighted 
at  the  corner  below  the  studio-building  and  has- 
tened to  meet  Somerdyke.  He  was  awaiting  her 
in  the  vestibule,  as  she  knew  he  would  be.  His 
back  was  toward  the  door  by  which  she  entered 
and  she  was  by  his  elbow  and  had  spoken  his  name 
before  he  saw  her.  Then  he  started  in  surprise. 

"Hallo!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have  been  watch- 
ing the  elevator  for  the  past  ten  minutes,  expect- 
ing you  to  come  down  from  Delaine's  apartment. 
Where  have  you  been?" 

Then,  as  his  eyes  took  in  her  change  of  costume 
and  rather  conspicuous  dress,  she  fancied  that  a 
gleam  of  mingled  amusement  and  cynicism  lighted 
his  eyes  for  a  moment — but,  before  she  could  be 
certain,  it  was  gone. 

"Where  shall  we  lunch?"  asked  Somerdyke, 
after  he  and  Caryl  had  shaken  hands.  "I  always 
like  the  lady  to  decide  on  the  restaurant." 

"How  should  I  know  where  to  go?"  she  asked 
naively,  lifting  her  deep  blue  eyes  to  his  dark  ones 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop     99 

and  smiling  bewitchingly.  "You  forget  that  I  am 
a  stranger  in  New  York." 

"Then  you  don't  know  New  York's  fashionable 
restaurants  at  all?"  queried  Somerdyke,  as  they 
strolled  slowly  along  the  street. 

"No,"  she  admitted,  shaking  her  head.  "You 
see  my  sister  and  I  only  came  here  last  spring, 
and  I  have  been  working  so  hard  learning  my  pro- 
fession that  I  have  had  no  time  to  think  of  pleas- 
ure of  any  kind.  Now  that  I  am  a  full-fledged 
stenographer  I  shall  have  more  leisure." 

"I'll  remember,"  said  Somerdyke,  and  Caryl 
appreciated  that  she  had  as  good  as  told  him  that 
she  was  now  in  a  position  to  receive -invitations. 
But  he  did  not  appear  to  notice  her  break,  for  he 
suggested,  without  any  further  comment,  "Sup- 
pose we  go  to  the  Vanderbilt." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  girl  demurely.  She 
tried  not  to  let  her  voice  quiver  with  delight. 
She,  Caryl  Marvin,  a  poor  stenographer,  living 
in  a  cheap  lodging  in  West  Twenty-second  Street, 
was  going  to  the  Vanderbilt !  How  wonderful  it 
was  and  how  she  wished  this  experience  could  last 
longer  than  an  hour  or  two!  The  thought  sug- 
gested an  idea  to  her. 

"Why  not  walk  there?"  she  asked. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Somerdyke.     "Let's  walk, 


ioo  The  Two  Sisters 

and  that  will  give  me  a  chance  to  attend  to  an  er- 
rand on  the  way  over." 

What  the  "errand"  was  was  proved  by  his  stop- 
ping in  a  few  minutes  at  a  Broadway  florist's  and 
buying  a  great  mass  of  roses  which  he  bade  Caryl 
fasten  at  her  belt.  The  smiling  salesman  handed 
her  a  long  pin  for  the  purpose,  and  she  could 
hardly  suppress  a  gasp  of  surprise  when  she  heard 
him  mention  in  a  low  voice  to  Somerdyke  the  price 
of  the  pink  beauties  that  the  purchaser  seemed  to 
value  so  lightly. 

"Thank  you  ever  and  ever  so  much!"  she  said, 
as  they  approached  the  street  again.  "These  roses 
are  wonderful,  and  I  do  love  flowers !" 

"You  should  wear  them  always,  child,  and  al- 
ways of  that  hue  of  pink.  They  just  match  your 
cheeks.  No,  they  don't — not  now!"  he  teased  as 
her  color  deepened.  "The  American  Beauty 
makes  the  other  roses  pale  by  contrast." 

While  Somerdyke  and  the  waiter  were  in  con- 
sultation, she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  looked 
about  her.  How  cool  and  how  lovely  it  was  in 
here !  Ah,  this  kind  of  thing  was  life — the  life 
for  which  she  was  intended!  She  glanced  at  the 
other  women  in  the  restaurant  and  was  surprised 
to  see  how  unostentatiously  some  of  them  were 
dressed.  A  man  and  woman  passed,  and  Caryl's 
eyes  followed  the  woman's  perfect  figure  won- 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop   101 

deringly.  How  swell  she  looked,  and  yet  how 
simple  her  clothes  were ! 

"What  are  you  thinking  about?"  asked  Somer- 
dyke,  and  she  started  from  her  musings  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice.  "I  have  been  watching  you 
for  fully  three  minutes,  and  you  have  not  looked 
in  my  direction  once.  What  were  you  thinking 
of?" 

"I  was  thinking,"  she  declared  bluntly,  "of  how 
I  love  all  the  fine  things  that  rich  people  can  en- 
joy— and  especially  how  much  I  do  love  pretty 
clothes,  and  I  was  wishing  I  could  have  all  of 
them  that  I  would  like  to  have!" 

There  came  into  his  eyes  a  look  she  did  not 
understand — a  mingling  of  cynicism  and  specula- 
tion. 

At  noon  of  the  day  on  which  Caryl  Marvin 
lunched  with  Harry  Somerdyke,  Julia  Marvin 
turned  with  a  wan  smile  to  a  fellow  saleswoman 
at  the  lace  counter. 

"Don't  you  want  to  go  to  lunch  now,  Miss  Mc- 
Donough?"  she  queried.  "The  rush  will  be  less 
for  the  next  hour  or  so,  and  you  must  be  tired.  I 
know  I  am." 

"Gee!"  ejaculated  Laura  McDonough,  rolling 
her  eyes  dramatically  and  smoothing  the  wrinkles 
in  her  skirt  down  from  an  over-slim  waist,  "it's 


102  The  Two  Sisters 

been  something  fierce  to-day.  I  suppose  the  early 
fall  shopping's  begun.  That  last  old  hen  that 
was  here  was  the  limit,  turning  over  the  whole 
darned  stock  and  then  deciding  that  she  didn't 
want  anything.  How  you  ever  was  so  polite  to 
her  gets  me!" 

"She  was  hard  to  please,"  Julia  admitted,  with 
a  sigh.  "Poor  old  soul!  She  comes  from  away 
out  in  New  Jersey,  and  she  told  me  that  she  gets 
into  the  city  only  once  a  year.  She  was  looking 
for  lace  for  her  daughter's  wedding  gown.  'Em- 
mie's going  to  marry  one  of  the  finest  young  gen- 
tlemen in  or  near  Wortendyke,'  she  said." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  how  you  do  it,"  declared 
Laura  McDonough,  half  enviously,  half  scorn- 
fully. 

"Do  what?" 

"Learn  so  much  about  the  terrible  looking 
frumps  that  blow  in  here.  They  bore  me  to  ex- 
tinction," she  lisped  with  an  intimation  of  what 
she  considered  ladylike  languor. 

"They  interest  me,"  smiled  Julia.  "That's  the 
'how'  of  it.  They  don't  bore  me  a  bit.  Now  run 
along  and  get  your  lunch.  I'm  going  next  and  I 
may  starve  if  you  don't  hurry." 

"I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour,"  promised  the 
girl,  as  she  hastened  away. 

Baird's  store  is  one  in  which  the  comfort  and 


"I — I  BEG  YOUR  PARDON,  Bur  AREN'T  You 
Miss  JULIA  MARVIN" 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop    103 

welfare  of  employees  receive  some  consideration, 
so  there  were,  here  and  there,  chairs  behind  the 
various  counters,  and  a  saleswoman  was  allowed 
to  sit  down  when  there  were  no  customers  at  her 
counter.  Julia  sank  into  a  chair  and  closed  her 
eyes.  It  had  been  a  hard  morning,  and  would-be 
buyers  had  been,  it  seemed  to  her,  more  exacting 
than  usual.  Her  head  ached;  her  back  was  tired; 
her  feet  were  swollen  with  much  standing.  She 
was  so  fagged  that  she  felt  as  if  she  could  go  to 
sleep  here  and  now. 

She  aroused  herself  with  a  start  and  looked 
down  the  length  of  the  lace  littered  counter. 
Three  other  girls  in  her  department  were  grouped 
together  chatting  and  giggling,  ignoring  the  dis- 
ordered condition  of  the  stock.  With  a  stifled 
sigh  Julia  arose  and  set  to  work  to  straighten  out 
the  tumbled  finery.  So  occupied  was  she  in  her 
task  that  she  did  not  see  a  man  who,  passing 
down  the  aisle,  stopped  short  with  a  smothered 
exclamation.  He  stood  in  front  of  her  for  a  half 
minute  before,  lifting  her  head,  she  saw  him. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?"  she  asked  auto- 
matically, coming  forward. 

The  man  hesitated.  "I — I  beg  your  pardon," 
he  said,  "but  surely  I  must  be  mistaken,  yet — ex- 
cuse me,  but  aren't  you  Miss  Julia  Marvin?" 


104  The  Two  Sisters 

"Yes,"  answered  Julia,  amazed,  "I  am,  but  you 
have  the  advantage  of  me.  I  do  not  know  you." 

"But  what  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he  blurted  out 
impetuously.  The  question  did  not  sound  imperti- 
nent, coming  from  him,  for  he  was  evidently  em- 
barrassed, and  even  in  her  surprise  the  girl  took 
note  of  his  courteous  bearing  and  indefinable  air 
of  good  breeding. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  gravely,  "if  you  will  tell 
me  who  you  are  it  will  be  easier  to  explain  mat- 
ters." 

"My  name  is  Kelley  Delaine,"  he  told  her. 
"Your  sister — I  think — is  in  my  employ  as  ste- 
nographer. I  have  also  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  once  before,  but  possibly  you  may  not  re- 
member." 

"I  don't  remember  your  face,"  the  girl  con- 
fessed frankly,  "but  I  do  remember  that  I  am 
under  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  you,  Mr.  Delaine. 
My  sister  told  me  yesterday  that  you  were  the 
man  who  saved  her  life  the  night  that  she  was 
nearly  run  over." 

"But  what,"  persisted  the  author,  "are  you 
doing  in  this  place?  Are  you  trying  to  get  local 
color — or  what?" 

"I'm  working  here,"  Julia  replied  simply. 

"Of  course,  I  can  see  that,"  persisted  the  many 
"but  why?" 


Delaine  Visits  Baird's  Shop   105 

"To  get  bread  and  butter,"  responded  Julia. 
She  was  not  ashamed  of  the  truth,  yet  she  faltered 
a  little  as  she  continued,  "I  am  earning  my  own 
living,  you  know." 

"But  your  sister" — began  Delaine,  puzzled, 
then  checked  himself. 

"Yes,  my  sister  had  a  little  money  of  her  own 
and  she  spent  it  in  learning  stenography,"  she  ex- 
plained, mistaking  the  cause  of  his  wonder. 

"I  see,"  said  Delaine  slowly,  dropping  his  eyes 
before  her  frank  gaze.  "Then  you  are  alone  in 
the  city,"  he  added,  "you  and  your  sister." 

"Quite  alone,"  Julia  affirmed.  Even  as  she 
spoke  she  wondered  that  she  felt  no  resentment 
at  this  strange  man's  questions  and  evident  inter- 
est or  curiosity. 

"I  see,"  Delaine  repeated.  "Have  you  ever 
written  anything  for  publication,  Miss  Marvin?" 

The  girl  laughed  out  in  surprise  at  the  sugges- 
tion. "I!"  she  exclaimed.  "No,  indeed!  I  only 
wish  I  had  the  ability  to  do  something  more  worth 
while  than  standing  behind  a  counter.  But  I 
haven't."  Then,  as  she  spoke,  she  became  aware 
that  the  other  saleswomen  at  her  counter  were 
looking  in  her  direction,  and  her  manner  changed 
quickly.  "Is  there  any  especial  kind  of  lace  that 
you  are  looking  for,  Mr.  Delaine?"  she  asked 
stiffly. 


io6  The  Two  Sisters 

The  man  ignored  her  question,  and  spoke  stam- 
meringly.  "I  hope  you  won't  be  angry  with  me," 
he  said,  "though  you  have  a  right  to  be,  I  suppose, 
but  would  you  think  it  rank  impertinence,  Miss 
Marvin,  if  I  were  to  beg  you  to  consider  our 
former  meeting  as  an  introduction,  and  to  ask  you 
to  go  to  luncheon  with  me  this  noon?" 

Then  he  stopped,  flushing  scarlet  as  he  remem- 
bered that  he  was  doing  the  very  thing  for  which 
he  had  snubbed  Harry  Somerdyke  only  an  hour 
ago. 


IX 

CARYL   TASTES    FREEDOM 

IT  would  be  hard  to  say  which  looked  the  more 
embarrassed  after  the  invitation  to  luncheon  had 
been  given — Kelley  Delaine  or  Julia  Marvin.  The 
man  saw  that  the  girl  was  unpleasantly  surprised. 
She  could  not  know  how  he  had  longed  to  meet 
her.  To  her  he  was  simply  a  writer  who  had  em- 
ployed her  sister  as  his  stenographer.  Yet  some- 
thing made  her  feel  that  he  was  a  gentleman  and 
it  was  with  an  effort  that  she  forced  herself  to 
appreciate  that,  after  all,  he  was  a  person  of 
whom  she  knew  nothing. 

His  manner  gave  her  confidence,  and  she  was 
almost  certain  that  he  was  a  man  whom  one  could 
trust.  Still,  in  spite  of  this,  the  situation  was  too 
unconventional  for  her  to  approve  of  it.  And  all 
the  while  that  these  thoughts  were  passing  through 
Julia  Marvin's  mind  the  saleswomen  at  her  coun- 
ter were  watching  her  curiously.  This  knowledge 
made  her  flush  uncomfortably. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Delaine,"  she  said,  some- 
107 


io8  The  Two  Sisters 

what  stiffly,  "but  you  must  excuse  me.  I  cannot 
accept  your  invitation." 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  man  bluntly. 

"Because,"  said  the  girl,  "I  am  not  in  the  habit 
of  lunching  with  strangers.  I  do  not  mean  to  be 
unkind,  but  as  I  am  paid  to  attend  to  my  work  at 
this  counter  I  have  no  right  to  stand  here  talking 
any  longer.  Besides" — dropping  her  voice  and 
glancing  uneasily  at  the  other  girls — "this  kind  of 
an  interview  attracts  disagreeable  comment." 

It  was  the  man's  turn  to  flush  now.  "I  beg 
your  pardon!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have  been  very 
thoughtless,  and  I  feel  properly  rebuked."  He 
hesitated,  then  added,  "I  will  get  your  address 
from  your  sister — if  you  don't  mind.  Good  morn- 
ing!'; 

Without  waiting  for  her  reply,  he  lifted  his  hat 
and  walked  rapidly  away,  while  Julia  began  with 
unsteady  hands  to  put  away  the  laces  that  she  had 
been  arranging  before  Delaine  came.  He  had 
only  been  with  her  for  three  or  four  minutes,  but 
somehow  there  were  many  things  he  had  said 
that  she  would  like  to  think  over.  But  this  was 
not  the  time  nor  the  place  for  such  thoughts. 
Then  she  took  herself  sharply  to  task.  Why 
should  she  let  any  man  of  whose  birth,  breeding 
and  habits  she  knew  nothing  affect  her  as  this  man 
had  done  ?  What  did  she  know  of  his  true  self  ? 


Caryl  Tastes  Freedom         109 

"Where  did  you  pick  up  your  gentleman 
friend?"  asked  a  voice. 

Julia  started  violently  and  found  Minnie  Mai- 
brunn,  a  salesgirl,  standing  close  by  her. 

"I  say,"  Minnie  went  on,  "he's  some  class,  eh? 
Ever  seen  him  before?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Julia  gravely.  "I  hope 
you  do  not  think  I  would  talk  to  a  man  I  had  never 
met,  do  you?" 

"Where  did  you  meet  him?"  queried  the  girl 
curiously.  "He  looks  like  a  regular  rich  guy, 
don't  he?" 

"I  don't  think  he  looks  especially  rich,"  said 
Julia  indifferently.  "I  don't  know  if  he  has  money 
or  not,  and  I  don't  care." 

"But  where  did  you  meet  him?"  persisted  Min- 
nie. 

"Here  in  New  York,  of  course.  An  intimate 
friend  of  mine  is  in  his  employ." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Minnie.  "When  are  you 
going  to  see  him  again?" 

Julia  looked  at  her  coldly.  "Really,"  she  said, 
"I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  ever  see  him  again, 
and  it  is  perfectly  immaterial  to  me  whether  I  do 
or  not." 

As  she  uttered  the  words  she  wondered  if  she 
spoke  the  truth.  Minnie  Maibrunn  bridled  with 
vexation. 


no  The  Two  Sisters 

"Well,"  she  retorted,  "you've  no  need  to  be  so 
snippy  about  it,  anyhow.  I  didn't  mean  to  offend 
you  by  asking  a  simple,  friendly  question  in  a 
perfectly  polite  way." 

Julia  smiled  kindly  and  laid  her  hand  on  the 
girl's  arm.  "I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  spoke  sharp- 
ly," she  said.  "To  tell  the  truth,  I'm  tired  and 
hungry,  and  these  laces  are  in  an  awful  mess." 

"I'll  help  you  put  them  to  rights,"  said  Minnie, 
mollified  by  Julia's  repentant  tone  and  manner. 
"I  don't  wonder  you  feel  cross.  I  guess  we  all 
get  that  way  when  we're  over-tired." 

As  Julia  Marvin  walked  homeward  late  that 
afternoon  she  pondered  on  the  events  of  the  day, 
but  especially  on  the  few  minutes  that  Delaine 
had  spent  in  conversing  with  her.  Why  had  he 
said  that  he  would  get  her  address  from  Caryl? 
It  would  be  mortifying  to  have  him  come  to  the 
house  where  she  and  her  sister  lived.  Not  that 
Julia  was  ashamed  of  the  fact  that  she  must  live 
in  cheap  lodgings,  but  there  was  no  place  in  which 
she  could  receive  callers. 

Moreover,  this  man  was  evidently  one  of  the 
class  who  are  used  to  nice  things  and  to  luxuries, 
and  she  was  but  a  poor  working  girl.  She  did  not 
want  to  have  any  man  condescend  to  her.  She 
would  be  treated  as  an  equal  or  she  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him.  But  perhaps  she  would 


Caryl  Tastes  Freedom         HI 

never  see  him  again.  She  would  certainly  forbid 
Caryl  to  give  him  the  address  of  Mrs.  Halloran's 
house.  She  did  not  believe  that  Caryl  herself 
would  be  anxious  to  have  her  employer  know  just 
where  she  lived.  The  child  was  foolishly  ashamed 
of  their  poverty.  But  in  this  case  her  false  pride 
might  stand  them  in  good  stead. 

At  all  events  the  two  girls  could  talk  the  matter 
over  that  evening  and  settle  their  plan  of  action. 
Of  course  Caryl  was  at  home  long  ago.  Julia 
was  glad  that  the  child  had  such  easy  hours,  for 
it  gave  her  plenty  of  time  to  rest,  and  the  older 
girl  had  always  felt  that  her  little  sister  needed 
more  care  than  she.  Besides  that,  Caryl  did  not 
like  work,  and  were  her  hours  long  she  might 
not  have  courage  or  desire  to  persevere. 

When  Julia  Marvin  had  climbed  the  two  flights 
of  stairs  to  her  room  and  opened  the  door  she 
stood  amazed.  Caryl  was  not  there,  but  on  the 
floor  lay  the  dress  she  had  worn  to  work  that 
morning,  and  the  room  showed  evidences  of  haste 
on  the  part  of  the  person  who  had  last  dressed 
there. 

Where  could  Caryl  be?  It  was  half  past  six, 
and  she  was  usually  at  home  by  half  past  three  at 
the  latest.  Could  anything  have  happened  to 
her?  Her  sister  pressed  her  hands  together 
tightly  in  a  sudden  spasm  of  fear,  and  hurrying 


H2  The  Two  Sisters 

across  the  room,  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Surely  she  must  be  coming  now ! 

The  afternoon  had  sped  by  all  too  quickly  for 
Caryl  Marvin.  She  and  Somerdyke  had  lingered 
long  over  the  luncheon  table.  The  man  had  sug- 
gested that  she  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him. 
She  had  demurred  at  first,  saying  that  she  had  not 
liked  the  only  wine  she  had  ever  tasted.  But 
Somerdyke  had  ordered  a  mixture  which  he  called 
"Rhine  wine  cup,"  and  she  found  this  to  be  such 
a  pleasant  beverage  that  she  took  enough  of  it  to 
make  her  feel  strangely  happy  and  careless. 

After  luncheon,  Somerdyke  proposed  that  they 
spend  an  hour  in  the  Bronx,  and  here  they  wan- 
dered through  the  park  until  Caryl  said  she  must 
go  back  home.  "The  sun  is  getting  low  in  the 
West,"  she  remarked. 

"Why  not  dine  with  me  somewhere?"  the  man 
asked. 

But  the  girl  was  beginning  to  feel  the  reaction 
from  the  unaccustomed  gayety  of  the  past  few 
hours,  and  the  exhilaration  caused  by  the  wine 
had  passed  off,  leaving  in  its  stead  a  sense  of 
weariness  and  depression. 

"No,"  she  said  listlessly.  "My  sister  would 
worry  about  me,  and  besides  I  am  not  dressed 
for  dinner.  I  must  go  right  home,  please." 

"You  look  mighty  sweet,"  the  man  observed 


Caryl  Tastes  Freedom         113 

as  they  emerged  from  the  subway  at  Forty-second 
Street.  In  her  present  mood  Caryl  did  not  be- 
lieve him.  Her  light  silk  was  draggled  and  dusty, 
for  she  had  trailed  its  length  along  paths  and 
roads  this  afternoon.  Her  white  silk  gloves  were 
soiled.  She  felt  straggling  wisps  of  her  hair 
clinging  to  her  warm  face  and  to  her  neck,  damp 
with  perspiration.  She  wished  she  was  in  her 
own  room,  where  she  could  rest  and  get  cool. 
Somerdyke,  noting  her  change  of  mood,  spoke 
regretfully. 

"You're  tired  out,"  he  said,  "and  it's  all  my 
fault.  If  you  really  must  go  home,  you  must 
promise  to  come  with  me  again  sometime.  Now  I 
shall  call  a  taxicab  and  take  you  to  your  apart- 
ment." 

The  possibility  of  this  complication  had  not  oc- 
curred to  Caryl.  She  had  supposed  she  would 
part  from  Somerdyke,  as  she  had  met  him,  in  a 
public  place,  and  then  go  alone  to  her  home.  She 
was  frightened  at  the  thought  of  having  her  com- 
panion see  the  shabby  lodging  house  on  Twenty- 
second  Street. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  protested,  "I  prefer  going  alone 
—really  I  do." 

"But  I  will  not  allow  you  to  do  so,"  Somerdyke 
declared  firmly.  "I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  taking 
a  lady  out  to  luncheon  and  trotting  her  about  the 


H4  The  Two  Sisters 

city  until  she  is  worn  out,  then  leaving  her  to  get 
herself  home  as  best  she  can.  We  will  take  a  cab, 
my  dear  child,  and  you  shall  ride  comfortably  to 
your  destination." 

What  could  she  do  ?  "I  don't  think,"  she  stam- 
mered, "that  my  sister  would  quite  approve  of  my 
coming  home  alone  with  a  man." 

Her  escort  laughed  teasingly.  "Afraid  of  sis- 
ter, eh?"  he  bantered.  "Well,  you  needn't  tell 
her  that  a  dreadful  man  brought  you  home.  She 
is  not  likely  to  be  hanging  out  of  the  front  window 
of  your  apartment  watching  for  you,  is  she?" 

"No — but "  she  faltered,  "I  have  an  er- 
rand to  attend  to  on  my  way  downtown.  There  is 
a  friend  I  was  to  call  on  late  this  afternoon,  and 
she  will  be  expecting  me." 

The  man  looked  at  her  keenly.  "Where  does 
the  friend  live?"  he  asked. 

The  girl  thought  fast.  She  must  invent  some 
excuse.  This  man  knew  she  was  a  stranger  here 
and  that  she  had  no  friends  living  in  New  York. 

"Oh,"  she  explained,  "she  does  not  live  in  New 
York  at  all.  She  is  from  my  old  home  and  is 
stopping  in  the  city  for  only  a  day  or  two.  That 
is  the  reason  I  must  see  her  this  afternoon.  She 
will  be  leaving  to-morrow  morning." 

"I  see,"  mused  Somerdyke.  "Where  is  she 
stopping?" 


Caryl  Tastes  Freedom        115 

The  only  hotel  whose  name  came  to  the  girl's 
mind  at  the  instant  was  the  Waldorf.  • 

"She's  at  the  Waldorf-Astoria,"  she  answered 
quickly. 

"Then  we  will  take  a  cab  there,"  Somerdyke 
said.  "You  shall  not  walk  when  you  are  so  tired. 
You  can  make  your  call  and  I  will  wait  downstairs 
for  you." 

Again  she  was  startled  at  the  position  in  which 
she  might  possibly  be  put.  Surely  she  had  need 
of  all  her  wits  at  this  juncture ! 

"Oh,  no,  you  must  not  wait,"  she  begged.  "It 
would  make  me  nervous  to  think  I  was  taking  so 
much  of  your  time." 

"I  have  time  to  burn,"  the  man  informed  her. 

"Perhaps  you  have,  but — to  .tell  you  the  truth — 
it  may  be  that  I  shall  decide  to  stay  and  dine  with 
my  friend." 

"But  you  said  your  sister  would  be  worried  if 
you  did  not  return  to  dinner,"  the  man  reminded 
her. 

"Oh,  well,  I  can  telephone  her,"  she  said.  The 
idea  of  a  telephone  in  Mrs.  Halloran's  cheap 
lodging  house  was  so  grotesque  that  she  felt  her 
lips  twitch  with  amusement  in  spite  of  her  present 
predicament. 

"All  right,"  agreed  Somerdyke,  with  reluctance. 

He  assisted  her  into  a  taxicab  he  had  hailed, 


n6  The  Two  Sisters 

seating  himself  beside  her  after  directing  the 
chauffeur  where  to  go.  There  ensued  an  awk- 
ward silence,  and  the  cab  had  turned  into  Thirty- 
third  Street  before  Caryl  spoke. 

"My  friend  is  very  fussy,"  she  said  timidly, 
"and  I  am  afraid  she  would  think  it  shocking  if 
she  knew  that  I  was  going  about  New  York  with 
a  man  whom  she  did  not  know  as  a  friend  of  my 
family.  We  might  meet  her  if  you  went  into  the 
hotel  with  me,  so  please  don't  go  in." 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  man.  He  would  argue 
the  matter  no  longer.  At  the  hotel  entrance  he 
helped  her  to  alight  and  stood,  head  uncovered, 
as  he  shook  hands  with  her. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said  softly,  "until  we  meet 
again.  By  the  way,  I  want  your  address." 

"I'll  mail  it  to  you,"  she  replied  hastily.  "Good- 
bye, and  thank  you." 

"See  here,'"  he  began,  but  she  hurried  away 
without  giving  him  time  to  remind  her  that  she 
had  not  his  address.  He  stood  looking  after  her 
as  she  entered  the  hotel,  then,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  handed  the  fare  to  the  cabman,  and, 
when  the  fellow  drove  off,  stood  for  a  long  mo- 
ment thinking. 


'A  TANGLED   WEB" 


CARYL  MARVIN  paused  uncertainly  after  the 
doorman  had  ushered  her  into  the  lobby  of  the 
Waldorf-Astoria.  Until  now  she  had  never  been 
in  a  large  hotel,  and  the  place  surprised  her.  Al- 
though it  was  only  early  September  there  seemed 
to  the  unsophisticated  girl  to  be  many  people 
standing  about.  What  must  the  crowds  here  be 
when  the  season  was  in  full  swing!  Seeing  her 
hesitation  and  embarrassment,  the  man  who  had 
opened  the  door  for  her  to  enter  accosted  her 
politely. 

"Is  there  anywhere  especial  you  wish  to  go 
where  I  can  direct  you?"  he  asked.  "Or  is  there 
someone  you  wish  to  see?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  stammered.  "I  was  to  meet  a 
friend  here — that's  all." 

"Perhaps  in  the  Turkish  room  there,"  he  sug- 
gested, pointing  to  the  shaded  room  with  its  col- 
ored lights  glowing  in  the  dusky  corners. 

"I'll  wait  there  for  her,"  said  Caryl,  entering 
and  seating  herself. 

117 


n8  The  Two  Sisters 

As  soon  as  the  man  had  stepped  out  of  sight 
the  girl  got  up  hastily  and  glided  swiftly  from  the 
room  into  the  hall  beyond  it.  Here  she  turned  to 
the  left  and  soon  found  herself  crossing  a  corridor 
in  which  people  were  seated,  doing,  apparently, 
nothing  but  looking  at  other  people.  She  paused 
again  and  addressed  a  passing  attendant. 

"Where  is  the  other  entrance  to  the  hotel?" 
she  asked  tremulously.  "Isn't  there  another  en- 
trance besides  the  one  back  there?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  man  with  the  patroniz- 
ing air  peculiar  to  his  kind.  "Go  right  across  and 
through  there  and  you  will  get  to  it." 

Caryl  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  followed  di- 
rections. Soon  she  would  be  out  of  this  big  and 
strange  place  and  on  her  way  home.  She  was  fa- 
miliar with  Thirty-fourth  Street,  having  gone 
through  it  sundry  times  in  a  cross-town  car.  When 
she  emerged  from  the  hotel  she  looked  about  her, 
then,  getting  her  bearings,  she  walked — almost 
fan  for  the  first  few  steps — toward  Sixth  Avenue. 

It  was  well  for  her  peace  of  mind  that  she  did 
not  look  behind  her.  Had  she  done  so  she  would 
have  seen  her  recent  escort  standing  in  the  door 
by  which  she  had  just  passed  out. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  she  disap- 
peared from  his  sight,  "she  is  a  little  liar,  no 
doubt,  but  an  interesting  study,  nevertheless.  The 


"A  Tangled  Web"  119 

fact  that  her  wits  work  quickly  makes  her  much 
more  fun  than  if  she  were  one  of  the  common- 
place, timid  kind.  Vain  as  a  peacock,  too — but 
evidently  new  at  the  man-game.  I  must  see  her 
again  soon!" 

With  which  determination  he  lighted  a  cigar 
and  decided  to  look  up  Kelley  Delaine  and  make 
his  peace  with  him. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  as  Julia  Marvin  looked 
anxiously  from  her  window  on  the  second  floor  of 
Mrs.  Halloran's  lodging  house  she  saw  her  sister 
coming  wearily  homeward.  The  child  had  a  jaded 
look,  Julia  noted,  and  walked  as  if  she  were  ill. 
Then  as  she  remembered  the  discarded  dress  that 
still  lay  on  the  floor,  and  observed  the  light  silk 
gown  which  Caryl  wore,  she  was  more  mystified 
than  before.  "Where  can  she  have  been?"  she 
muttered  uneasily. 

By  the  time  Caryl  had  reached  the  room  in 
which  her  sister  anxiously  awaited  her,  Julia  had 
hung  up  the  dress  so  carelessly  dropped  by  the 
wearer,  had  taken  off  her  own  hat,  and  was  trying 
to  look  as  if  she  had  not  been  frightened  by  the 
younger  girl's  absence. 

"Well,  little  sister,"  she  said,  with  an  effort  to 
speak  lightly,  "I  was  just  wondering  where  you 
were." 

"For  pity's  sake,"  Caryl  broke  in  impatiently, 


I2O  The  Two  Sisters 

"don't  begin  to  ask  questions  as  soon  as  I  get  into 
the  room !  I'm  too  tired  to  want  to  answer  your 
catechism." 

Julia  flushed.  "You  must  be  very  tired,  my 
dear,  to  speak  like  that,  when  I  have  not  asked  you 
anything." 

"I  am  tired!"  repeated  the  girl.  She  walked 
over  to  the  mirror  and  surveyed  her  perspiring 
face  with  keen  dissatisfaction. 

"Don't  I  look  like  a  fright!"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  know  I  do,  so  don't  say  I  don't!  I  never 
can  have  nice  things  such  as  most  girls  have,  and 
I  never  can  go  where  I  please  without  knowing 
that  I  have  to  give  an  account  of  myself.  Of 
course  you'll  insist  on  knowing  just  what  I've  been 
doing  every  minute  of  the  day.  Well,  then,  I'll 
tell  you.  I  did  my  work  this  morning  and  then 
I  came  home  and  changed  one  shabby  dress  for 
another  that's  not  much  better — cheap  rags,  both 
of  them — and  then  I  went  out  to  luncheon." 

"To  luncheon?"  repeated  Julia.  "But  why 
change  your  dress  for  that?" 

"Because,"  said  the  girl,  tossing  her  head,  "I 
went  with  a  gentleman." 

"Oh!"  gasped  Julia.  It  was  but  a  monosylla- 
ble, yet  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered  conveyed 
consternation,  anxiety  and  disapproval.  Caryl 
had  spoken  of  a  strange  man — Mr.  Delaine's 


"A  Tangled  Web"  121 

friend — who  had  wanted  to  know  her — surely 
Mr.  Delaine  would  not  have  allowed  this  man  to 
take  her  out  to  luncheon. 

"You  did  not  go  with  that  man  who  called  on 
your  employer  yesterday — did  you,  dear?"  she 
queried  tremulously — "not  with  a  complete  stran- 
ger— surely,  Caryl?" 

If  Julia  knew  the  truth  all  the  fun  would  be 
spoiled. 

"Oh,  don't  look  so  horrified!"  Caryl  exclaimed. 
"I  suppose  I  had  a  right  to  go  out  to  lunch  with 
my  employer  when  he  asked  me,  Julia  Marvin!" 

Julia's  gasp  of  astonishment  as  she  heard  that 
Delaine  had  asked  his  stenographer  to  lunch  with 
him  surprised  Caryl. 

"He  asked  you  to  lunch  with  him!"  exclaimed 
Julia. 

"Well,  why  not?"  asked  Caryl  indignantly. 
"Do  you  consider  me  so  very  unattractive  that  a 
man  would  not  want  to  take  me  anywhere?" 

For  a  moment  Julia  did  not  reply,  and  Caryl 
repeated  her  question,  "Do  you  think  it  strange 
that  a  man  should  want  me  to  go  to  luncheon  with 
him?"  she  insisted. 

"Why,  no,"  Julia  answered  slowly,  "it's  not 
that,  but  I  was  surprised  to  know  that  Mr.  De- 
laine had  invited  you." 


122  The  Two  Sisters 

"Why?" 

Julia  could  not  invent  reasons  as  glibly  as  could 
Caryl,  and  she  hesitated  before  replying. 

"Because  I  did  not  think  he  was  the  kind  of 
person  to  ask  an  employee  to  meet  him  as  a  social 
equal  the  second  day  that  he  knew  her — and " 

She  paused,  confused,  and  Caryl  spoke  up  in- 
dignantly. 

"Upon  my  word!"  she  burst  forth.  "A  social 
equal,  indeed!  I'll  have  you  understand,  Julia, 
that  I  consider  myself  quite  as  good  as  Kelley  De- 
laine any  day  in  the  week.  Just  because  I  happen 
to  have  to  work  for  him  does  not  make  me  an 
underling,  does  it?" 

"No,"  protested  her  sister,  "I  do  not  mean  that 
at  all.  What  I  do  mean  is  that  one  would  expect 
a  gentleman  to  have  enough  care  for  the  con- 
ventions and  enough  respect  for  a  young  girl  in 
his  employ  to  wait  a  reasonable  time  before  pay- 
ing her  such  attentions  as  you  suggest.  I  had  not 
thought  Mr.  Delaine  would  forget  what  was  due 
you.  He  seemed  different,  somehow." 

"Much  you  know  about  him !"  retorted  Caryl. 
"You  never  spoke  to  him  or  saw  him  but  that  one 
night  when  he  saved  my  life — my  life,  please  re- 
member, not  yours — so  you  saw  even  less  of  him 
then  than  I  did." 


"A  Tangled  Web"  123 

Again  Julia  shrank  from  deception  and  forced 
herself  to  speak  the  truth. 

"I  have  seen  him  once  since  then,"  she  con- 
fessed, "but  of  course  I  do  not  know  him  really." 

It  was  Caryl's  turn  to  look  amazed.  "You 
have  seen  him  once  since  then!"  she  repeated. 
She  flushed  angrily.  "You  have  been  very  careful 
to  keep  it  from  me.  I  think  you  might  have  been 
as  frank  with  me  as  I  have  been  with  you." 

Then  she  blushed  as  she  recollected  with  what 
measure  of  frankness  she  had  treated  her  sister. 
Julia,  seeing  the  blush,  attributed  it  to  Caryl's 
indignation  at  what  she  deemed  to  be  the  other's 
lack  of  candor. 

"I  have  hardly  had  time  to  tell  you  of  my  sec- 
ond meeting  with  Mr.  Delaine,"  she  explained, 
"as  it  took  place  only  to-day." 

"To-day?    Where?"  Caryl  asked  quickly. 

"He  came  into  the  store,"  replied  the  older 
girl. 

The  color  left  Caryl's  cheeks  and  she  sat  gazing 
at  her  sister,  her  eyes  wide  and  startled.  Kelley 
Delaine  had  been  to  the  store  in  which  Julia 
worked,  and  she,  Caryl,  had  told  him  that  her 
sister  lived  at  home  and  wrote  for  the  magazines  I 
Had  he  discovered  that  she  had  lied  to  him?  She 
was  afraid  to  ask,  yet  could  not  endure  the  agony 
of  uncertainty. 


124  The  Two  Sisters 

"Did — did  he  see  you — did  he  speak  to  you?" 
she  questioned  in  a  low  voice. 

Julia,  noting  the  change  in  the  girl's  face,  felt 
a  pang  of  fear.  Was  it  possible  that  Caryl  fan- 
cied herself  already  fond  of  this  man?  Nothing 
else,  she  thought,  could  account  for  her  look  of 
distress  when  she  spoke  of  the  possibility  of  his 
having  had  a  talk  with  another  girl.  Was  the 
child  so  foolish  as  to  be  jealous  because  her  em- 
ployer had  spoken  to  her  sister?  Poor  Caryl! 
how  young  and  impressionable  she  was ! 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  responded  guardedly.  "He 
saw  me  before  I  saw  him.  Then  he  spoke  to  me 
— recalling  himself  to  my  memory." 

"How  did  he  know  you  were  working  in  Baird's 
store?"  asked  Caryl  tremulously. 

"I  don't  think  he  did  know  it  until  then,"  re- 
plied Julia.  "At  least  he  seemed  much  surprised 
when  he  saw  me.  In  fact  he  asked  me  how  I 
happened  to  be  there." 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him?"  The  question 
was  eager. 

"The  truth,  of  course.  I  said  I  was  working 
there,  earning  my  living.  Even  if  he  did  look  as- 
tonished, I  didn't  care.  What  else  could  I  tell 
him,  even  if  I  had  wanted  to  lie — and  I  certainly 
did  not  want  to." 

"Told  him!  you  ought  to  have  told  him  any- 


"A  Tangled  Web"  125 

thing  else !"  Caryl  declared,  springing  to  her  feet, 
her  lips  twitching,  and  tears  filling  her  eyes.  "Why 
need  you  tell  him  that  dreadful  thing — why  need 
you,  I  say?" 

Her  sister  tried  to  quiet  her.  "Dear  little 
girl,"  she  soothed,  "there  is  nothing  dreadful  in 
telling  the  truth  about  one's  work.  You  are  earn- 
ing your  living  in  one  way,  and  I  in  another.  Both 
ways  are  honorable.  Surely  your  employer  would 
think  none  the  less  of  you  because  your  sister 
stands  behind  a  counter  in  Baird's  very  respec- 
table department  store." 

"Yes,  he  will!  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about — you  don't  know  anything  about 
it!"  the  younger  girl  burst  forth.  "Why  couldn't 
you  hold  your  tongue — why  need  you  have  let  him 
know  who  you  were  anyway?  You  could  have 
pretended  to  be  somebody  else — couldn't  you? 
Oh,  you  have  just  spoiled  everything  for  me !  You 
always  do!  I  wish  I  was  dead  and  out  of  it  all!" 

With  which  wail  of  despair  Caryl  threw  herself 
face  downward  on  the  bed,  sobbing  bitterly. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  when  we  wish  to  be 
frank  and  candid  with  those  who  have,  we  be- 
lieve, a  right  to  know  the  truth,  they  defeat  our 
aims  by  making  it  difficult  for  us  to  tell  them  the 
facts  as  they  exist.  Some  such  thought  as  this 
passed  through  Julia's  mind  as  she  saw  Caryl's 


126  The  Two  Sisters 

paroxysm  of  anger  and  resentment.  If  the  girl 
was  going  to  receive  information  in  this  spirit  how 
could  one  be  frank  with  her? 

As  Julia  had  sprung  to  the  conclusion  that 
Caryl  was  so  fond  of  Kelley  Delaine  that  she  was 
wounded  because  he  had  introduced  himself  to 
another  girl,  she  could  not  suspect  that  Caryl's 
emotion  was  that  of  fear  lest  her  employer  had 
discovered  the  web  of  falsehoods  which  she  had 
woven.  Julia's  one  idea  was  to  check  the  pas- 
sionate crying  which  might  be  heard  by  other  lodg- 
ers, and  to  do  this  she  must  make  light  of  her  in- 
terview with  Delaine. 

"Caryl,  dear,"  she  begged,  laying  a  caressing 
hand  on  the  bowed  head,  "please  be  quiet  and 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,  or  Mrs.  Halloran 
will  be  up  to  find  out  what's  the  matter." 

Caryl  pushed  away  the  would-be  restraining 
hand.  "There's  enough  the  matter!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "You've  spoiled  everything,  I  tell 
you!" 

"Spoiled  everything?"  repeated  Julia,  more 
mystified  than  ever.  This  was  the  second  time 
Caryl  had  made  this  assertion,  and  it  puzzled  her. 
"I  do  not  see  how  I  could  have  spoiled  anything 
when  I  had  such  a  little  bit  of  a  talk  with  Mr. 
Delaine." 


"A  Tangled  Web"  127 

"But  you  told  him" —  accused  Caryl,  then  be- 
gan to  sob  afresh. 

"I  told  him,"  said  Julia,  with  determined  pa- 
tience, "that  I  was  earning  my  own  living.  That 
was  the  truth,  and  I  fail  to  see  what  harm  it  did." 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  Caryl's  mind. 
Why  might  she  not  tell  Delaine  that  her  sister 
had  decided  to  write  a  story  about  a  working  girl 
in  New  York  shops,  and  to  this  end  had  taken  a 
position  in  a  department  store  for  several  weeks 
in  order  to  obtain  such  facts  as  she  desired?  At 
the  idea  her  sobs  ceased,  and  she  wiped  her  eyes. 

"Then  you  did  not  have  time  enough  for  him 
to  talk  about  me  or  to  tell  him  much  about  our 
life,  did  you?"  asked  Caryl  tremulously,  yet  hope- 
fully. 

Julia,  relieved  at  what  promised  to  be  a  lull  in 
the  storm,  answered  promptly. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "your  name  was  scarcely 
mentioned.  I  told  Mr.  Delaine  that  you  had  used 
some  of  your  own  money  to  take  a  course  in  ste- 
nography, and  I  only  told  him  this  as  an  explana- 
tion of  your  position  as  his  secretary  and  of  the 
fact  that  I  had  not  taken  up  the  same  line  of 
work." 

"Then  what  did  he  say?"  queried  Caryl  eag- 
erly. 

"I  do  not  remember,  but  surely  nothing  about 


128  The  Two  Sisters 

you.  In  fact  he  stopped  only  a  minute  at  my 
counter,  and,  as  I  did  not  want  to  be  seen  chatting 
with  a  man  during  business  hours,  I  asked  him  if 
I  could  show  him  any  laces,  and  he  went  away  at 
once." 

"Did  he  ask  where  you  lived?"  Again  the 
voice  had  a  startled  sound,  and  Julia  replied 
quickly. 

"Yes— and  I  did  not  tell  him." 

Caryl  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  "That's 
good!"  she  exclaimed.  "Perhaps,  after  all,  no 
mischief  has  been  done.  I  do  not  want  him  to 
know  where  we  live." 

"Neither  do  I,"  agreed  her  sister. 

After  a  moment's  silence  Caryl  gave  a  hysteri- 
cal giggle.  The  recollection  had  come  to  her  of 
how  she  had  eluded  Somerdyke  in  his  plan  to  as- 
certain where  her  home  was.  Her  sister  looked 
at  her  inquiringly.  Caryl's  swift  transitions  of 
mood  were  always  a  wonder  to  her. 

"What  under  the  sun  are  you  thinking  of  now, 
Caryl?"  she  asked.  "One  minute  you  are  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  the  next  you  are  laughing." 

"Oh,  I  just  happened  to  remember  something 
funny,"  Caryl  explained.  "But  I  don't  believe  it 
would  interest  you." 

Julia  pressed  the  question  no  further.  Affairs 
had  now  reached  a  point  where  both  girls  were 


"A  Tangled  Web"  129 

keeping  things  from  each  other.  Julia  did  not 
mention  the  fact  that  Delaine  had  asked  her  to 
lunch  with  him,  nor  that  he  had  inquired  of  her 
whether  she  wrote  for  publication  or  not.  The 
question  she  had  forgotten  for  the  time;  she  did 
not  speak  of  the  invitation  lest  it  should  distress 
her  sister  further. 

Caryl  had  many  things  which  she  did  not  tell, 
but  for  reasons  very  different  from  those  that  led 
to  Julia's  reticence.  Caryl  knew  her  sister  would 
disapprove  of  her  acceptance  of  Somerdyke's  at- 
tentions, also  that  she  would  be  horrified  could 
she  know  of  the  falsehoods  told  to  both  Somer- 
dyke  and  Delaine — not  to  mention  the  lie  told  to 
Julia  herself  about  Delaine's  having  asked  her — 
his  stenographer — to  lunch  with  him  to-day. 

Especially  did  she  appreciate  that  she  must  use 
diplomacy  to  extricate  herself  from  her  present 
predicament  with  Delaine,  and  that  if  Julia  knew 
of  the  position  she  was  in  she  would  forbid  her 
telling  any  more  lies  to  explain  those  she  had  al- 
ready told.  Therefore  both  of  the  girls  talked 
lightly  and  rapidly  of  any  matters  except  those 
occupying  their  thoughts. 

But  under  all  her  seeming  indifference  Julia 
Marvin  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  hurt  at  the 
revelation  made  by  Caryl  of  the  nature  of  Kelley 
Delaine.  Somehow  she  had  felt  her  little  sister 


130  The  Two  Sisters 

was  safe  with  him,  and  yet  he  had  asked  this  in- 
experienced child  to  lunch  with  him  on  the  second 
day  that  she  was  in  his  employ.  Of  course,  other 
men  did  that  kind  of  thing — but  he  had  seemed 
different  from  other  men.  If  his  action  was  not 
actually  improper,  it  was  certainly  unconventional. 
How  foolish  it  was  to  trust  any  man  anyhow  1 
They  were  probably  all  alike ! 

But  she  said  nothing  of  all  this,  but,  to  put  the 
matter  from  her  mind,  glanced  at  her  watch  and 
remarked  that  if  they  would  not  be  late  for  din- 
ner, it  was  time  they  got  ready.  To  which  sug- 
gestion Caryl  agreed  without  demur. 


XI 

CARYL   MEETS    SOMERDYKE   AGAIN 

CARYL  MARVIN  stood  before  the  door  of  De- 
laine's apartment  and  listened  to  the  hum  of  the 
descending  elevator.  She  started  to  push  the 
bell,  then  paused  irresolute.  For  the  hundredth 
time  she  repeated  to  herself  the  story  that  she 
had  determined  to  tell  the  author. 

Of  course,  he  would  bring  up  the  subject  of  his 
meeting  with  Julia  in  Baird's.  He  was  always 
talking  about  her.  "Yes,  Mr.  Delaine,"  Caryl 
had  planned  to  say,  "Julia  told  me  she  saw  you. 
She  is  playing  shopgirl  just  now.  She  does  all 
kinds  of  funny  things  to  get  the  real  facts  she 
wants  for  her  stories.  She  was  really  terribly  em- 
barrassed at  meeting  you  in  that  way." 

The  girl  repeated  her  fabrication  glibly  to  her- 
self, and,  after  another  moment  of  hesitation, 
rang  the  bell.  The  impassive  Chinese  servant 
opened  the  door,  and  Caryl,  nodding  brightly  to 
him,  went  past  him  into  the  large  room  where  she 
was  to  work,  the  door  of  which  stood  open.  De- 


132  The  Two  Sisters 

laine  was  sitting  at  his  desk  absorbed  in  a  manu- 
script that  lay  before  him.  He  looked  up  as  Caryl 
entered,  and  she  felt  herself  flush  under  his  steady 
gaze. 

"Ah!  Sit  down,  Miss  Marvin,"  he  said  po- 
litely. "I  will  be  ready  for  you  very  soon  now." 

He  turned  again  to  his  manuscript,  and  Caryl, 
after  taking  off  her  hat  and  jacket,  uncovered  her 
machine  and  sat  waiting.  She  watched  the  lean 
face  of  the  author  warily.  She  wished  he  would 
finish  what  he  was  doing  and  introduce  the  subject 
of  Julia.  The  suspense  made  her  nervous  and 
fidgety.  Twice  she  cleared  her  throat  as  if  about 
to  speak,  but  the  man  did  not  raise  his  head  from 
his  work. 

The  girl  drummed  an  impatient  little  measure 
on  the  table  with  her  finger-tips,  and  kept  her  eyes 
on  Delaine.  He  was  exceedingly  good  looking, 
she  thought.  He  was  not  as  handsome  as  Somer- 
dyke,  but  there  was  something  older  and  kinder 
in  his  face.  As  she  watched  him  she  felt  almost 
guilty  at  having  accepted  his  friend's  invitation 
yesterday.  She  wondered  if  the  author  knew 
that,  in  spite  of  his  warning,  she  had  lunched  with 
Somerdyke. 

Delaine,  glancing  up  suddenly,  met  her  eyes. 
She  looked  away  quickly,  and  blushed  confusedly. 

"I  shall  be  with  you  in  an  instant,  Miss  Mar- 


Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  133 

vin,"  he  said,  folding  up  the  manuscript  he  had 
been  correcting.  "How  are  you  this  fine  day?" 

"Very  well,"  answered  Caryl  awkwardly.  She 
wished  that  if  he  was  going  to  speak  of  Julia  he 
would  do  it  now  and  get  it  over  with. 

"That's  good,"  was  all  he  said  in  reply.  He 
filled  his  pipe  from  a  silver  jar  on  the  table,  puf- 
fing away  for  a  few  seconds  in  silence. 

"Now,"  he  announced  at  last,  "we'll  get  to 
work.  I  have  about  decided  not  to  use  that  stuff 
I  dictated  to  you  yesterday— at  least  not  yet.  I 
hope  you  are  in  the  mood  for  dictation  this  morn- 
ing, for  I  have  a  story  that's  been  seething  in  my 
mind  ever  since  I  awoke  at  dawn." 

For  the  next  hour  Kelley  Delaine  strode  up  and 
down  the  room,  sucking  on  his  old  black  briar 
pipe,  and  dictating  in  short,  forceful  sentences. 
When  the  quaint  clock  on  the  mantel  chimed  the 
hour  he  paused. 

"That  will  be  all  for  to-day,"  he  announced. 
"I  think  it's  about  the  best  thing  I  ever  did,"  he 
added,  as  if  to  himself. 

"It  certainly  interested  me,"  Caryl  smiled  in  -e- 
turn,  "though  you  kept  me  going  too  fast  to  giv  e 
me  a  chance  to  really  appreciate  it.  It  must  be 
wonderful  to  be  able  to  write  stories,"  she  said 
tentatively,  and  waited  for  his  response.  If  he 


134  The  Two  Sisters 

was  going  to  speak  of  his  conversation  with  Julia, 
here  was  an  opportunity  for  him  to  do  so. 

"It  is  wonderfully  good  fun,"  he  answered  ab- 
stractedly, then  turned  again  to  his  desk  and  sat 
down.  Biting  her  lip  in  vexation,  Caryl  began  her 
transcription. 

The  reading  of  her  notes  went  more  easily  than 
yesterday — perhaps  because  she  had  been  inter- 
ested in  the  story  and  remembered  whole  sen- 
tences of  it.  For  a  while  only  the  clatter  of  the 
typewriter  broke  the  silence  of  the  room.  Then 
the  shrill  whirr  of  the  door-bell  sounded,  and  in 
a  moment  Wang  entered. 

"Mist'  Someldyke,"  he  announced  gutturally. 

Delaine  turned  to  Caryl,  who  had  stopped  her 
typewriting  at  the  sound  of  that  name. 

"Have  you  an  engagement  with  Mr.  Somer- 
dyke,  Miss  Marvin?"  he  asked,  in  an  impersonal 
manner. 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  in  astonishment. 
"Why — why — no!"  she  stammered.  "Why 
should  I?" 

"I  didn't  know  whether  you  were  lunching  with 
him  again  to-day  or  not,"  Delaine  replied  coolly. 
"If  you  haven't  an  engagement  with  him  I  am  at 
liberty  to  say  I  am  engaged.  Wang,  tell  Mr. 
Somerdyke  positively  that  I  can  see  nobody,  and 
that  I  will  be  grateful  if  he  will  take  himself  gently 


Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  135 

by  the  hand  and  lead  himself  away."  He  finished 
with  an  amused  glance  at  the  servant's  grave  face. 

Wang  bowed  and  disappeared  and,  without 
another  word  to  his  stenographer,  Delaine  re- 
turned to  his  work.  It  was  well  past  noontime 
when  Caryl  at  last  finished  her  task  and,  gathering 
up  the  typewritten  sheets,  placed  them  in  order 
upon  her  employer's  desk.  He  acknowledged 
them  with  a  smile. 

Caryl  resented  that  smile  as  she  had  resented 
his  attitude  throughout  the  morning.  He  seemed 
far  removed  from  her  and  to  regard  her  with  a 
silent  cynicism  that  had  been  lacking  in  their 
former  meetings.  She  felt  that  he  was  pleasant 
to  her  rather  because  he  was  a  gentleman  than 
because  he  considered  her  worth  especial  notice. 
She  made  one  last  attempt  to  broach  the  subject 
that  was  harassing  her. 

"Julia  tells  me  that  you  saw  her  in  Baird's," 
she  ventured  as  she  was  pinning  on  her  hat,  pre- 
paratory to  her  departure. 

The  man  looked  at  her,  and  his  eyes  were 
grave.  "Yes,"  he  answered  simply,  "I  did." 

Five  minutes  later,  in  the  outer  hall,  Caryl 
stamped  her  little  foot  in  anger.  "Oh,"  she  mut- 
tered to  herself,  "he's  horrid!  He  makes  me  feel 
like  a  fool!" 

She  stepped  from  the  cool  dark  lobby  of  the 


136  The  Two  Sisters 

great  studio  building  into  the  bright  sunshine  of 
the  noonday.  For  a  moment  she  stood  blinking 
in  the  sudden  glare,  then  she  turned  and  started 
down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  her  home. 

She  had  progressed  only  a  few  steps  when  a 
masculine  voice  sounded  so  close  to  her  ear  that 
she  started  violently  and  uttered  a  smothered 
exclamation. 

"I  didn't  insist  upon  coming  into  Delaine's 
study  this  morning,"  laughed  Harry  Somerdyke, 
"because  I  thought  one  melodramatic  scene  a  week 
was  enough."  In  spite  of  his  light  words  there 
was  admiration  in  the  glance  with  which  he  greeted 
her,  and  after  shaking  hands  with  her  he  retained 
possession  of  her  hand  as  he  talked.  "But  I  did 
want  to  see  you,  so  I  waited  around  outside  like 
'Mary's  little  lamb.'  You're  going  for  a  spin  in 
my  car  this  afternoon.  Aren't  you  glad?" 

"Oh!"  gasped  the  girl,  disengaging  her  hand. 
"You're  awfully  kind,  Mr.  Somerdyke,  but  I  can't 
possibly  accept.  Though,"  she  added  wistfully 
as  she  eyed  the  graceful,  low-swung  car  drawn  up 
at  the  curb,  "I  should  love  to  go." 

"Then  why  can't  you?"  the  man  asked.  "Got 
another  engagement  with  your  friend  at  the  Wal- 
dorf?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  stammered  the  girl,  red- 
dening guiltily. 


Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  137 

"Well,  you  see,"  explained  Somerdyke,  a  twin- 
kle of  amusement  in  his  eyes,  "I  was  mean  enough 
to  play  detective  the  other  day  and  follow  you 
into  'Peacock  Alley.'  I  was  afraid  that  you  were 
trying  to  deceive  your  too  trustful  friend — mean- 
ing me — and  behold,  I  was  right!  I  wept  for 
hours  at  being  so  grossly  deceived.  You  really 
owe  me  some  reparation  for  my  injured  feelings. 
Please  be  an  obliging  little  girl  and  go  with  me. 
We'll  run  across  into  Jersey  and  be  back  by  seven, 
and  then  we'll  have  dinner  together  somewhere." 

"Oh,  I  can't!"  exclaimed  Caryl  in  dismay.  "I 
really  can't.  My  sister  will  be  at  home  by  six 
o'clock,  and  she  would  be " 

She  stopped,  confused  at  the  man's  hearty 
laugh.  "Oh,  coward,  coward!"  he  taunted  mer- 
rily. "Again  afraid  of  big  sister  who  doesn't 
like  you  to  go  out  with  young  men  of  a  desperate 
character  like  mine !" 

"It  isn't  that  at  all!"  Caryl  flashed  back,  her 
pride  touched.  "It's  none  of  my  sister's  concern 
who  I  go  with  or  where  I  go  with  him.  I  was  only 
thinking  that  she  wouldn't  know  where  I  was  and 
would  worry  about  me." 

"Well,  then,"  suggested  Somerdyke  coolly,  "if 
that  is  your  only  reason  for  not  going  with  me,  we 
can  settle  that  easily.  Get  into  my  car  and  I'll 
drive  you  to  your  apartment  where  you  can  write 


138  The  Two  Sisters 

a  note  to  loving  sister  and  leave  it  where  she  can 
find  it  when  she  comes  in.  Then  we  can  go  with  a 
clear  conscience.  Please  be  a  good  sport,  Miss 
Marvin,  and  come  with  me.  I  didn't  think  you 
would  back  out  on  a  proposition  like  this." 

He  had  cleverly  chosen  the  words  that  would 
appeal  most  strongly  to  the  flighty  mind  of  the 
girl.  She  had  always  thought  it  would  be  won- 
derful to  be  considered  a  good  sport  by  men  who 
would,  accordingly,  give  her  good  times.  And 
here  was  Somerdyke,  whom  she  admired  more 
than  she  cared  to  admit  to  herself,  handsome,  at- 
tractive, winning  of  speech,  beseeching  her  to  do 
what  she  wanted  to  do  above  all  else. 

The  sun  was  hot  and  glaring  here  in  the  city 
streets.  She  thought  how  bright  and  pretty  the 
country  must  appear  to-day.  It  would  be  ideal  to 
ride  in  that  stunning  car  all  the  afternoon  with 
such  a  person  as  Somerdyke.  With  a  reckless  toss 
of  her  head  she  made  her  decision. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Somerdyke,"  she  answered  lightly, 
"I'll  go  with  you  if  you  will  be  very  nice,  and  on 
one  condition." 

"Good  girl!"  Somerdyke  exclaimed,  his  dark 
face  suddenly  eager  and  animated.  "Name  your 
condition  and  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  for  a 
mere  man  to  fulfil." 

"Wait  for  me  here,"  Caryl  commanded  rapidly, 


Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  139 

"and  I'll  be  back  in  twenty  minutes.  And  I  must 
get  home  to-night  at  six-thirty  at  the  latest" 

Suspicion  gathered  in  the  man's  eyes.  "If  I  let 
you  go  now,  you'll  really  come  back?"  he  asked 
sharply. 

"I'm  at  least  a  good  enough  sport  to  keep  my 
word!"  Caryl  retorted  indignantly. 

"All  right,  then,"  agreed  Somerdyke.  "I'll  be 
waiting  here  when  you  return,  and  I'll  promise 
you  we'll  be  back  in  time  for  your  dinner  if  gaso- 
line and  tires  hold  out.  They  ought  to,  for  I  had 
the  car  overhauled  only  last  week." 

He  pressed  her  hand  warmly  as  she  said  good- 
bye, and  she  hurried  away  down  the  street.  Out 
of  sight  around  the  corner  she  took  a  car  to  Twen- 
ty-second Street,  then  walked  so  fast  that  she 
reached  her  lodgings  quite  out  of  breath.  Put- 
ting several  additional  pins  in  her  hat  to  secure 
it  tightly,  she  took  from  Julia's  dresser  a  long 
blue  veil  which  was  one  of  her  sister's  few  bits  of 
finery. 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  her  finger  on  her  puckered  lips,  her  brow 
wrinkled  in  thought.  What  message  should  she 
leave  her  sister?  It  would  never  do  to  tell  her 
the  plain  truth.  Julia  was  such  a  fuss  about  things 
and  insisted  on  regarding  her  younger  sister  as 
still  a  mere  child. 


140  The  Two  Sisters 

With  an  abrupt  determination  Caryl  went  to 
the  shabby  little  table  that  stood  near  the  win- 
dow and,  with  a  stub  of  a  pencil,  dashed  off  a 
hurried  note. 

"Julia,  darling,"  she  wrote.  "Mr.  Delaine  is 
giving  a  tea  at  his  studio  this  afternoon  and  has 
asked  me  to  stay  and  meet  some  of  his  guests  and 
help  with  the  tea  things.  Do  not  worry  if  I  am 
a  little  late  in  getting  home.  I  shall  be  well  chap- 
eroned and  Mr.  Delaine  is  sure  you  won't  mind. 
I  hope  you  won't  be  angry.  Your  loving  little 
sister,  Caryl." 

She  laid  the  note  on  the  bureau  where  Julia 
would  be  sure  to  see  it,  and  hurried  downstairs. 

Ten  minutes  more  than  the  time  that  Caryl 
had  allotted  to  herself  had  passed  when  she 
rejoined  Somerdyke.  As  she  turned  into  the 
street  on  which  the  studio  building  stood,  the  girl 
saw  the  man  on  the  front  seat  of  his  car,  his  soft 
cap  pulled  down  upon  his  forehead  that  the  glare 
of  the  sun  might  not  strike  his  eyes.  These  eyes, 
she  noted,  as  she  came  closer,  were  shut,  and  she 
paused  embarrassedly,  wondering  just  how  to 
awaken  the  sleeper.  That  he  was  not  really 
asleep  was  proved  by  his  quick  start  when  she 
spoke  his  name. 

"Mr.  Somerdyke,"  she  said  softly. 

"Why,  hallo!    See  who's  here!"  he  exclaimed 


Caryl  Meets  Somerdyke  Again  141 

jovially.  "No,  I  was  not  snoring,  and  was 
really  wide  awake  with  my  eyes  tight  shut.  Ten 
minutes  ago  I  looked  at  my  watch  and  found  that 
you  were  due  here.  Then,  to  forget  the  desola- 
tion of  the  street  when  you  are  not  in  it,  I  closed 
my  eyes  that  I  might  not  be  smitten  by  the  sight." 

Caryl  laughed  with  enjoyment  of  his  merri- 
ment. She  felt  suddenly  happy  and  elated.  Her 
joy  made  her  face  more  animated  and  prettier 
than  usual.  With  Julia's  pale  blue  veil  knotted 
under  her  chin  she  looked  like  a  child. 

"Whew!  but  you've  got  stunning  blue  eyes!" 
Somerdyke  exclaimed,  as  he  gazed  at  her.  "They 
just  match  the  color  of  your  veil.  Did  you  take 
them  to  the  store  with  you  so  as  to  be  sure  to  get 
that  exact  shade?"  he  teased. 

"Don't  be  so  silly!"  Caryl  commanded,  pleased 
nevertheless. 

"All  right,  I  won't.  Hop  into  the  car  now  and 
we'll  get  off!" 

Taking  her  elbows  into  his  strong  hands  he  al- 
most lifted  the  girl  from  the  ground  to  the  front 
seat,  and,  after  manipulating  a  mysterious  lever 
or  two,  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"Please  observe  that  this  machine  has  a  new 
self-starter,"  he  said,  and  the  girl  replied,  "Oh, 
yes,  I  see,"  although  she  had  no  idea  what  a  self- 
starter  was.  At  first  she  was  absorbed  in  trying 


142  The  Two  Sisters 

to  appreciate  that  she  was  actually  automobiling 
in  New  York  with  a  rich  young  man,  and  she 
leaned  back  with  the  air  of  luxurious  nonchalance 
she  had  seen  wealthy  women  assume  as  they  were 
driven  along  Fifth  Avenue.  For  a  while  the  man 
was  so  intent  upon  making  his  way  safely  through 
the  crowded  thoroughfares  that  he  did  not  talk, 
and  this  suited  his  companion  just  now,  for  she 
wanted  time  and  quiet  in  which  to  appreciate  the 
good  luck  that  was,  as  she  phrased  it  to  herself, 
"coming  her  way." 


XII 


MEANWHILE  Julia  was  going  through  her  usual 
routine  of  work  in  Baird's  department, store.  For 
hour  after  hour  she  stood  behind  the  counter,  try- 
ing to  prevent  her  thoughts  from  straying.  Yet, 
endeavor  as  she  might  to  confine  her  reflections  to 
the  various  kinds  of  laces  and  their  prices  per 
yard,  the  vision  of  Kelley  Delaine  as  he  had  stood 
here  yesterday  would  thrust  itself  upon  her. 

She  tried  to  be  angry  with  him;  in  fact,  at  times 
she  would  succeed  in  being  indignant  when  she 
remembered  what  Caryl  had  told  her  about  him. 
He  had  actually,  Julia  mused,  had  the  audacity  to 
come  in  here  and  ask  her — Caryl's  sister — to  go 
to  luncheon  with  him,  when  all  the  while  in  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  he  knew  he  had  invited  Caryl 
herself  to  accompany  him.  Had  he  meant  to  take 
them  both?  If  so,  that  was  all  right.  Yet,  if 
that  was  the  case,  why  had  he  not  told  each  girl 
of  his  plan?  Perhaps  he  had  intended  to  surprise 
them  both.  This  possibility  brought  with  it  a 
little  comfort. 

143 


144  The  Two  Sisters 

Until  Julia  was  sure  he  had  not  asked  her  just 
to  see  what  she  would  say,  and  not  because  he 
wanted  both  her  and  Caryl,  she  would  postpone 
her  decision  against  him.  Of  course,  if  he  had 
planned  a  little  surprise  for  both  sisters,  he  could 
hardly  retract  his  invitation  to  the  younger  one 
when  the  older  one  made  the  fulfillment  of  his 
plan  impossible. 

At  last  the  working  day  came  to  an  end  and 
the  store  bell  rang  preparatory  to  closing  for  the 
night.  Julia,  with  the  other  girls  at  her  counter, 
put  away  any  stock  that  happened  to  be  out  of 
place,  then  hurried  off  to  get  her  hat.  She  felt 
depressed  and  could  not  join  in  the  light  laughter 
of  her  companions. 

"I  say,"  said  one  of  them,  "what  do  you  think 
of  some  of  us  getting  together  to-night  and  going 
down  to  Coney?  Will  you  go  along,  Miss  Mar- 
vin? Dutch  treat,  you  know,"  she  added  quickly. 

Julia  tried  to  smile.  "Oh,  thank  you,"  she  re- 
plied, "but  you  must  count  me  out  of  it,  please. 
It  is  kind  of  you  to  think  of  including  me  in  your 
fun,  but  really  I  seldom  go  anywhere  in  the  even- 
ing— and  never  without  my  sister." 

"Why  not  take  her,  too?"  suggested  Minnie 
Maibrunn  pleasantly,  "that  is,  if  she's  the  kind 
that  will  go  in  for  some  fun." 

"Indeed,  she  loves  fun,"  returned  Julia,  "but — 


An  Explanation  145 

well,  to  be  frank,  girls — I  do  not  think  that  she 
and  I  can  afford  at  this  time  the  extravagance  of 
going  on  a  pleasure  trip  anywhere." 

"That's  too  bad,"  sympathized  several  of  the 
girls,  while  Minnie  asked  in  an  aside  if  Julia 
wouldn't  allow  her  to  "stand  treat."  But  Julia 
firmly  and  gratefully  declined. 

She  nodded  brightly  to  the  group  on  parting  at 
the  door  of  the  shop,  and  turned  westward,  walk- 
ing slowly.  She  had  spoken  the  truth  in  saying 
she  and  Caryl  could  not  afford  the  proposed  jaunt, 
but  she  had  not  added  still  another  truth — and 
that  was  that  she  did  not  care  to  go  with  this 
rather  noisy  set  of  girls  to  a  public  resort,  and 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  assume  the  responsibility 
of  chaperoning  her  very  pretty  sister  upon  such 
an  expedition.  People  looked  at  Caryl  always, 
and  Caryl  evidently  liked  to  receive  their  admir- 
ing glances. 

"She  is  a  darling — but  a  great  responsibility!" 
sighed  Julia,  as  she  walked  along.  Then  she 
caught  her  breath  with  a  gasp  of  surprise,  and 
stopped  short. 

For  there,  on  the  corner,  right  in  front  of  her, 
stood  Kelley  Delaine,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  smiling, 
and  evidently  waiting  for  her. 

For  a  second  after  she  saw  him,  Julia  felt  a 
strong  impulse  to  turn  and  hasten  in  the  opposite 


146  The  Two  Sisters 

direction.  Calmer  second  thought  told  her  such  a 
move  would  be  foolish.  Delaine  had  seen  her  and 
knew  she  had  recognized  him.  She  walked  on, 
and,  when  she  came  abreast  of  him,  tried  to  pass 
him  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  but  he 
was  not  so  easily  snubbed.  He  lifted  his  hat,  and, 
making  no  effort  to  stop  her,  fell  into  step  at  her 
side.  His  first  words,  and  the  embarrassed  man- 
ner in  which  he  spoke  them,  checked  Julia's  rising 
indignation. 

"I  really  want  to  speak  to  you,  Miss  Marvin, 
or  I  should  not  have  taken  this  (shall  we  be  chari- 
table and  say  'unconventional'?)  way  of  address- 
ing you.  Please  forgive  my  seeming  rudeness.  I 
— I — I  am  not  a — well,  a  masher,  nor  do  I  make 
a  practice  of  speaking  to  young  ladies  who  show 
that  they  are  not  especially  willing  to  talk  to  me. 
You  must  believe  that — won't  you?" 

There  was  a  boyish  appeal  in  his  voice,  and 
Julia's  tone  was  kinder  than  she  had  meant  it  to 
be  when  she  replied. 

"Of  course  I  believe  you,  Mr.  Delaine,"  she 
answered  him.  "What  is  it  you  wish  to  speak  to 
me  about?" 

"Several  things,"  he  returned  more  confidently. 
"In  the  first  place,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  give 
your  sister  a  message  from  me?  Please  tell  her 
that  I  have  been  called  out  of  town  for  to-morrow 


An  Explanation  147 

and  that  I  will  not,  therefore,  expect  her  at  my 
rooms.  I  did  not  learn  until  after  she  had  left  at 
noon  to-day  that  I  would  be  obliged  to  go  away, 
and  I  do  not  know  her  address — so  I  must  trouble 
you  to  deliver  my  message.  That  is  the  chief  ex- 
cuse I  must  plead  for  waiting  on  the  corner  near 
Baird's  for  you.  Am  I  pardoned?" 

"Indeed  you  are,"  Julia  said,  with  a  bright 
smile,  and  Delaine  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"Now  if  I  am  really  forgiven,"  he  continued, 
"won't  you  let  me  delude  myself  into  the  idea  that 
I  am  a  plutocrat?  Let's  take  an  auto  ride — on  a 
bus — as  far  as  the  street  you  live  on,  at  any  rate." 

Julia  shook  her  head  gravely.  "I  can't  afford 
that  kind  of  thing,  Mr.  Delaine,"  she  objected. 

"You  surely  don't  think" —  he  began  protest- 
ingly,  but  she  interrupted  him. 

"I  mean  that  I  have  made  it  a  rule  since  I  came 
to  the  city  never  to  accept  favors  from  anyone 
whom  I  do  not  know  well,"  she  explained.  "I 
don't  see  how  I  can  make  an  exception  in  your 
case.  Do  you,  Mr.  Delaine?" 

The  man  walked  along  beside  her  in  silence  for 
a  moment.  Then  he  spoke  slowly  and  seriously. 

"Come  and  sit  in  the  little  park  in  the  square 
for  a  few  minutes,  won't  you?  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

She  nodded  in  silence,  and  together  they  strolled 


148  The  Two  Sisters 

to  the  square.  The  grass  shone  like  emerald  in 
the  late  afternoon  sunlight;  here  and  there  on  the 
shabby  green  benches  derelict  hulks  of  humanity 
were  stranded.  The  two  chose  a  spot  in  the  shade 
and  sat  down.  Delaine  came  to  the  point  without 
any  preliminary  hesitation. 

"Miss  Marvin,"  he  said  bluntly,  "I  wish  that 
we  could  be  friends — you  and  I.  I'm  not  a  social- 
ist, but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can  see  why  the  fact 
that  we  both  work  for  our  living  should  stand  be- 
tween us  and  friendship.  To  be  perfectly  frank — 
I  have  liked  you  ever  since  I  first  saw  you.  The 
oftener  I  speak  to  you  the  more  you  interest  me. 
Won't  you  put  aside  your  rules  and  scruples  in 
this  one  case  and  let  us  just  be  pleasant  conven- 
tional acquaintances?  For  the  life  of  me,  I  do  not 
understand  your  reason  for  avoiding  me  so  per- 
sistently. I  am  not  a  cigarette-smoking,  liquor- 
drinking,  black-mustached  villain.  I  have  few 
women  friends.  I  want  very  much  to  count  you  as 
one  of  them." 

He  paused,  and  as  Julia  did  not  reply,  he  went 
on:  "Another  thing  I  have  to  say.  I  want  to 
apologize  for  asking  you  to  take  lunch  with  me 
yesterday.  I  never  did  such  a  thing  on  so  short 
an  acquaintance  before.  I  had  no  right  to  do  it 
then." 


An  Explanation  149 

"Yet  you  went  to  lunch  with  my  sister  on  that 
very  same  day,"  Julia  reminded  him  sternly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  he  said,  looking  at  her  in 
blank  astonishment. 

She  repeated  her  remark. 

"I  did  no  such  thing!"  he  exclaimed  abruptly. 

uAre  you  sure?"  asked  the  girl,  a  sarcastic  ring 
in  her  voice. 

"As  sure  as  that  I  am  sitting  here,"  he  declared. 
"After  I  left  you  I  went  up  to  the  Spur  and  Bridle 
Club  and  lunched  there  in  solitary  state.  Who 
ever  told  you  such  a  yarn?" 

His  tone  and  manner  convinced  the  listener 
that  he  spoke  the  truth,  and  her  face  paled  sud- 
denly. She  passed  a  trembling  hand  over  her 
eyes. 

"I  don't  feel  very  well,"  she  faltered,  "I  think 
I  will  go  home  now." 

"You  don't  go  by  yourself  when  you  look  like 
that,"  asserted  Delaine.  "Poor  child,  you  are  as 
white  as  a  sheet.  Let  me  take  you  in  a  cab." 

"No,"  answered  Julia  resolutely,  "I  prefer  to 
go  alone,  if  you  please."  Even  in  her  fright  she 
saw  the  disappointment  in  his  eyes  and  felt  vague- 
ly sorry  for  him.  "Thank  you  for  your  kind- 
ness, Mr.  Delaine,"  she  said  hurriedly,  holding 
out  her  hand.  "I  shall  write  you  if — if  I  ever 
want  your  help.  Good-bye!" 


150  The  Two  Sisters 

She  had  returned  his  hand  clasp  and  was  hur- 
rying away  along  the  winding  walk  of  the  little 
park  before  he  found  his  voice.  He  looked  after 
her  pityingly.  He  understood  now  what  her  alarm 
meant.  "When  I  get  hold  of  Somerdyke,"  he 
muttered,  "I'll  punch  his  head  good  and  plenty 
for  him!" 

Julia  sped  on  homeward,  her  heart  keeping 
time  with  her  racing  feet.  Intuitively  she  knew 
now  that  Caryl  had  been  deceiving  her — for  how 
long  she  could  not  tell.  Where  and  with  whom 
had  the  child  been? 

Outside  the  door  of  her  room,  Julia  paused  to 
catch  her  breath  and  try  to  plan  what  to  say  to 
Caryl  on  entering.  Then  she  pushed  the  door 
open  and  went  in.  The  room  stood  empty  in  the 
gathering  shadows,  and  her  feet  sounded  loudly  on 
the  bare  floor.  Her  bureau  drawer  stood  open 
and  the  contents  were  in  an  untidy  mass. 

On  the  bureau  lay  a  scrap  of  folded  paper. 


XIII 

A   MOTOR   RIDE   AND   A   QUARREL 

"Ix's  perfectly  wonderful!"  exclaimed  Caryl 
for  the  tenth  time  within  an  hour.  Her  compan- 
ion relaxed  his  attention  from  the  road  ahead  of 
him  long  enough  to  glance  at  her  with  a  smile  of 
approval.  She  was  good  to  look  at,  with  her 
cheeks  whipped  pink  by  the  wind  and  her  blue  eyes 
sparkling  with  exhilaration.  Harry  Somerdyke 
loved  pretty  women  with  the  ardor  of  a  connois- 
seur. 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it,  little  girl,"  he  answered 
in  a  familiar,  almost  proprietary  tone — "in  spite 
of  your  reluctance  to  trust  yourself  with  me.  Au- 
tomobiling  is  good  fun,  especially  when  one  has  a 
stunningly  pretty  girl  seated  beside  him." 

"I  really  don't  think  that  I  care  particularly  for 
the  pretty  girl,"  Caryl  laughed  saucily  with  a  co- 
quettish toss  of  her  head. 

"Well,  I  am  so  enthusiastic  about  her  that  I 
shall  let  the  car  go  to  smash  while  I  am  looking  at 
her  if  she  doesn't  stop  making  eyes  at  me,"  he 

IS1 


152  The  Two  Sisters 

threatened,  as  he  guided  the  rushing  machine  over 
a  particularly  rough  patch  of  road. 

"Isn't  going  so  fast  at  all  dangerous?"  queried 
his  companion,  but  with  no  trace  of  anxiety  in  her 
voice. 

"Fast!"  scoffed  the  driver.  "Wait  until  we  get 
out  to  that  stretch  of  asphalted  road  at  Arcola — 
then  I'll  show  you  what  this  little  boat  of  mine  can 
really  do.  What's  the  matter?  Frightened?" 

"Not  when  I'm  with  you,"  the  girl  assured  him, 
smiling  happily. 

The  broad,  fresh  sweep  of  air  against  her  face 
acted  like  wine  upon  her  spirits.  She  was  daring 
and  gay  this  afternoon,  and  said  whatever  came 
into  her  mind.  Julia,  Delaine,  her  squalid  life  in 
the  city,  were  all  forgotten.  She  felt  she  could 
ride  on  and  on  and  never  tire. 

She  amused  herself  for  some  little  time  after 
they  had  passed  the  "stretch  of  asphalted  road  at 
Arcola"  in  watching  the  handsome  face  of  the 
man  beside  her.  Could  it  really  be  that  she,  Caryl 
Marvin,  to  whom  nothing  pleasantly  exciting  had 
ever  happened,  was  now  bowling  along  in  this 
glorious  machine  beside  this  well-groomed,  clever 
gentleman  who  liked  her,  as  she  told  herself,  "for 
herself  alone"  ?  She  laughed  aloud  in  enjoyment 
of  the  situation.  There  were  both  vanity  and  joy 
in  the  laugh,  and  Somerdyke  turned  his  head. 


A  Motor  Ride  and  a  Quarrel  153 

"Still  having  a  perfectly  wonderful  time?"  he 
queried. 

"I  wish  I  could  do  this  for  ever  and  ever!"  the 
girl  breathed. 

"And  in  an  hour  or  two  from  now  you  will  be 
pleading  with  me  to  hurry  so  that  you  won't  get 
home  late  and  thus  stir  up  the  wrath  of  dear  sis- 
ter," he  teased. 

"I  didn't  say  that  I  was  going  to  do  this  for 
ever  and  ever,"  Caryl  corrected  him.  "I  only  said 
I'd  like  to.  We  don't  do  everything  we  want  to 
in  this  world — more's  the  pity!"  and  she  sighed 
with  feigned  melancholy. 

The  car  swung  into  a  broad,  graveled  driveway 
at  the  end  of  which  gleamed  the  white  columns  of 
a  great  hotel. 

"It's  getting  near  afternoon  tea  time — or  along 
in  that  direction,"  Somerdyke  remarked,  as  he 
drew  up  at  the  hotel  entrance.  "We'll  get  a  sand- 
wich and  something  cool  to  drink,  and  then  we'll 
go  back  by  another  way  to  that  dreary  old  city  in 
which  I  see  you  only  once  or  twice  in  a  long  age." 

A  suave  waiter  ushered  them  out  of  the  glare 
of  the  sunlight  into  a  shaded,  high-ceiled  room, 
and  set  a  small  table  in  front  of  them. 

"A  Scotch  high-ball  for  me,"  ordered  Somer- 
dyke. "Will  you  have  a  glass  of  iced  tea — or 
what?" 


154  The  Two  Sisters 

Caryl  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  her  new 
sense  of  independence  asserted  itself.  "I  think  I'll 
take  the  same  drink  that  you  do,"  she  announced. 

Somerdyke  raised  his  eyebrows  in  surprise. 
"Are  you  sure  you  can  stand  high-balls?"  he  asked. 
"They're  pretty  strong." 

"Certainly  I  can!"  retorted  Caryl,  making  her 
facts  suit  her  desires.  "I  am  very  fond  of  them," 
she  added.  She  did  not  know  just  what  a  high- 
ball was,  but  she  was  determined  to  appear  so- 
phisticated and  live  up  to  her  reputation  as  a 
"sport." 

Her  companion  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
laughed.  "All  right!"  he  agreed.  "You're  the 
judge,  you  know.  Waiter — two  high-balls,  then!" 

Caryl  was  very  thirsty.  The  rapid  drive  along 
dusty  roads  had  dried  her  throat,  and  now  that 
she  was  sitting  still  in  the  house  she  was  also  very 
warm.  When  the  sparkling  drink  in  the  ice-filled 
glass  was  put  before  her  she  took  it  eagerly,  drink- 
ing a  generous  half  of  it  before  she  set  the  glass 
down.  She  did  not  find  the  taste  agreeable,  but 
the  liquid  was  delightfully  cold.  She  ate  a  sand- 
wich, then  drained  the  glass. 

"Delicious  I"  she  murmured,  as  she  saw  Somer- 
dyke watching  her.  When,  ten  minutes  later,  she 
arose  to  follow  him  from  the  hotel,  she  experi- 
enced a  strange  sensation.  Her  knees  felt  uhcer- 


A  Motor  Ride  and  a  Quarrel  155 

tain  and  weak,  and  the  house  and  the  veranda 
through  which  she  passed  seemed  to  be  slowly 
tilting  at  a  sickening  angle,  and  it  required  a 
strong  effort  of  her  will  to  enable  her  to  step  up 
into  the  car. 

Once  seated  there,  she  felt  better,  and  the  wind 
again  cooled  her  flushed  face.  She  closed  her 
eyes  as  she  sank  back  luxuriously  in  the  seat. 

Several  times  she  heard,  as  at  a  great  distance, 
her  companion's  voice,  and  roused  herself  suffi- 
ciently to  answer  him.  She  was  not  sleepy,  she 
mused,  but  the  motion  and  air  made  her  blissfully 
contented  and  indifferent  to  all  things.  It  was 
fine  to  sit  comfortably  in  a  cushioned  seat  and  let 
the  world  slip  by.  It  was  not  until  the  car  was 
coasting  down  the  long  hill  above  Fort  Lee  Ferry 
that  she  volunteered  a  remark. 

"It's  been  perfectly  dear  of  you  to  take  me  to- 
day, Mr.  Somerdyke,"  she  said  slowly.  Some- 
how it  was  hard  for  her  to  pronounce  her  words 
plainly. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  that  you've  waked  up  at  last," 
the  man  replied,  with  a  laugh  of  relief.  "Where 
shall  I  take  you  when  we  get  to  New  York?" 

"Home,  of  course,"  she  replied. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  laughing  again,  "but  I'm 
not  a  mind-reader,  and  you've  not  given  me  your 
address." 


156  The  Two  Sisters 

She  gave  it,  still  speaking  very  slowly.  She  had 
evidently  forgotten  her  desire  to  keep  the  knowl- 
edge of  her  living  place  from  Somerdyke.  The 
man  nodded  as  he  heard  the  address. 

"Almost  jagged!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Silly 
little  fool!" 

It  was  after  seven  o'clock  when  they  drove  up 
to  the  gloomy  house  that  Caryl  and  Julia  Marvin 
called  home,  and  Somerdyke  helped  his  com- 
panion to  alight.  He  held  her  hand  closely  in 
bidding  her  good-bye. 

"You  look  devilishly  pretty,"  he  said  as  the  two 
stood  at  the  side  of  the  car.  "For  almost  nothing 
I'd  kiss  you  good-night." 

Caryl  laughed  carelessly.  "Perhaps  I  wouldn't 
let  you  if  you  tried,"  she  said.  "And  anyway  it's 
too  light  yet  for  even  you  to  dare."  Pulling  her 
hand  free  of  his  grasp,  she  ran  up  the  steps  into 
the  house. 

Before  driving  away  the  man  jotted  down  the 
number  of  the  house.  Then  he  smiled  cynically 
and  climbed  back  into  his  car.  "Little  fool !"  he 
muttered  to  himself  for  the  second  time  within  an 
hour. 

Slowly  Caryl  mounted  the  steep  stairs  to  her 
room.  The  house  was  close  and  stuffy,  and  there 
was  a  smell  of  cooking  in  the  halls.  The  girl 
sniffed  disdainfully. 


A  Motor  Ride  and  a  Quarrel  157 

"Oh,  how  I  hate  it  all !"  she  murmured,  as  she 
reached  the  floor  on  which  was  the  room  occupied 
by  Julia  and  herself.  She  was  in  a  distinctly  bad 
humor  as  she  entered  the  dingy  chamber.  Julia 
was  lying  on  her  bed,  and  in  a  chair  by  the  win- 
dow was  the  ample  form  of  Mrs.  Halloran. 

"Well,  I  do  declare!"  exclaimed  this  latter 
personage  as  Caryl  appeared,  but  Julia  checked 
any  further  outbursts. 

"Mrs.  Halloran,"  she  said  beseechingly,  get- 
ting up  from  the  bed,  "would  you  mind  leaving 
me  and  my  sister  alone  for  a  little  while  now? 
Thank  you  for  all  you  have  done.  I  am  very 
grateful." 

The  portly  landlady  arose  and  left  the  room, 
but  as  she  passed  Caryl  she  gave  a  scornful  look 
of  which  Caryl  herself  pretended  to  be  entirely 
unconscious.  Walking  to  the  bureau  she  took  off 
her  veil  and  had  removed  her  hat  and  gloves  be- 
fore she  spoke  to  her  sister. 

"What's  the  matter,  Judy?"  she  asked  indif- 
ferently. "Got  another  of  your  headaches?" 

"Where  have  you  been?"  queried  the  older  girl 
gravely,  ignoring  the  question  asked  her. 

At  the  serious  tone  and  manner  Caryl  looked 
dismayed,  and  a  sudden  guilty  fear  kept  her  silent. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Caryl?"  Julia  repeated 
slowly. 


158  The  Two  Sisters 

With  a  gesture  of  impatience  the  younger  girl 
threw  off  the  nervousness  that  had  seized  her  for 
the  moment.  "Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,"  she  snapped 
peevishly,  "don't  take  on  that  severe  manner  with 
me!  You  know  where  I  have  been  as  well  as  I 
do.  You  got  the  note  I  left  here — didn't  you? 
You  surely  aren't  angry  about  my  going  and  tak- 
ing tea  at  Mr.  Delaine's — are  you?" 

"Don't  tell  me  any  more  lies,  please,  Caryl," 
the  sister  begged  wearily.  "I  want  to  know  where 
you  have  been." 

"I  was  at  Mr.  Delaine's,"  retorted  the  other 
hotly.  "How  many  times  do  I  have  to  tell  you 
so?" 

"You  were  not  at  Mr.  Delaine's,"  Julia  af- 
firmed. "Mr.  Delaine  was  not  at  home  this  af- 
ternoon. I  saw  him  on  the  street.  Furthermore, 
I  know  you  did  not  lunch  with  him  yesterday,  and 
that  he  did  not  ask  you  to  do  so.  You  wrote  me  a 
lie  to-day.  Now  tell  me  where  you  have  been." 

Caryl  turned  angrily  upon  her  sister,  her  cheeks 
flaming,  her  eyes  snapping.  "It's  none  of  your 
business  I"  she  shrilled.  "You  aren't  my  mother. 
I  won't  tell  you  where  I  was.  It's  none  of  your 
affair!" 

For  a  moment  the  two  girls  stood  looking  at 
each  other.  Caryl's  face  was  flushed  and  stub- 
born. Julia  was  pale,  but  a  gleam  of  temper  was 


A  Motor  Ride  and  a  Quarrel  159 

beginning  to  show  in  her  dark  eyes.  All  at  once, 
as  though  to  end  the  discussion,  Caryl  turned  back 
to  the  bureau  and  began  arranging  her  hair. 

"Caryl,"  said  Julia,  still  firmly,  "you  will  either 
tell  me,  here  and  now,  with  whom  you  were  to-day, 
and  where  you  went,  or  I'll  find  out  for  myself!" 

"Much  chance  you'll  have  to  find  out,"  scoffed 
Caryl,  without  looking  around. 

Taking  a  quick  step  forward,  Julia  laid  her 
hands  on  Caryl's  shoulders  and  turned  the  girl 
toward  the  light.  As  she  did  so,  she  started  vio- 
lently for  the  unmistakable  odor  of  whisky  reached 
her  nostrils. 

"Caryl!"  she  ejaculated. 

"Now,  what's  the  matter?"  the  younger  girl 
queried  irritably,  twitching  herself  from  her  sis- 
ter's grasp. 

"There's  the  smell  of  whisky  on  your  breath," 
Julia  accused  in  an  awed  whisper.  "You've  been 
— been — drinking!"  Then,  in  a  frenzy  of 
anxiety,  she  grasped  the  girl  again  by  the  should- 
ers. 

"Will  you  tell  me  where  you  have  been?"  she 
insisted,  almost  fiercely,  while  her  lips  trembled 
and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"Let  me  go!"  Caryl  ordered. 

"I  won't  let  you  go,"  Julia  declared  between 


160  The  Two  Sisters 

her  set  teeth — "not  until  you  tell  me  where  you 
have  been!" 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Caryl,  "what  an  infer- 
nal and  intolerable  nagger  you  are,  Julia!  I've 
been  for  an  automobile  ride,  if  you  must  know. 
There's  nothing  sinful  in  that,  is  there?" 

"Then  why  did  you  lie  to  me?"  faltered  the 
older  girl,  shaken  by  anger  and  fear.  "With 
whom  did  you  go?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  obstinate  silence. 
Caryl  stood  with  her  face  flushed  and  her  eyes 
sullenly  downcast.  Julia,  white  as  a  ghost,  her 
fingers  interlocked  in  a  painful  grip,  gazed  at  the 
girl  who  was  her  all,  as  if  by  her  very  fear  and 
yearning  she  could  draw  her  secret  from  her. 
But  the  look  did  not  move  the  younger  sister  from 
her  determination. 

"I'm  not  going  to  tell  you,"  she  said  after  a 
while. 

Again  she  turned  away,  but  her  companion  de- 
tained her  while  she  spoke  slowly  and  solemnly. 

"Caryl,"  she  said,  "you  will  either  tell  me  the 
whole  truth  or  I — I — I'll  go  straight  to  Mr.  De- 
laine and  find  out  all  he  knows  about  this  matter. 
He,  at  least,  will  not  lie  to  me." 


XIV 

A   BITTER   EXPERIENCE 

IT  is  to  be  doubted  if  anyone  with  as  shallow  a 
nature  as  Caryl  Marvin's  is  capable  of  appreciat- 
ing the  nervous  strain  from  which  Julia  had  suf- 
fered since  her  parting  with  Kelley  Delaine.  The 
sudden  revelation  and  conviction  that  her  little 
sister  had  deceived  her,  had  lied  to  her,  were 
painful  enough,  but  the  possible  cause  of  such 
deception  puzzled  and  alarmed  her  cruelly.  The 
child  must  have  some  reason  for  concealing  her 
actions. 

What  could  this  reason  be  except  that  she  was 
doing  something  of  which  she  knew  her  sister 
would  disapprove?  And  what  would  she,  who 
loved  Caryl,  disapprove  of  except  of  that  which 
was  unprincipled  or  unsafe?  These  thoughts  had 
tortured  Julia  all  the  way  home.  How  did  par- 
ents of  young  and  pretty  girls  manage  to  keep 
watch  over  them  in  a  big  city  like  New  York? 

So  hurried  and  nervous  had  she  been  when 
she  reached  her  own  room  that  she  did  not  see 
Mrs.  Halloran's  ample  figure  advancing  along  the 

161 


1 62  The  Two  Sisters 

hall.  The  landlady  stood  irresolute  outside  of 
Julia's  door  after  the  girl  had  entered  and  closed 
it  behind  her,  for  she  had  seen  in  the  dim  light 
that  her  lodger's,  face  was  pale.  She  liked  Julia, 
and  she  suspected  that  Caryl  was  giving  her 
trouble.  And,  while  she  hesitated,  she  heard  the 
rustle  of  paper  as  the  occupant  of  the  room 
opened  the  sheet  she  found  on  her  bureau,  and  a 
low  exclamation  of  dismay  and  fear  reached  the 
ears  of  the  curious  but  kind-hearted  listener.  This 
sound  decided  her  as  to  her  course,  and  she 
knocked  on  the  door,  then  entered  without  waiting 
for  an  answer. 

"May  I  come  in,  Miss  Marvin?"  she  said  with 
elaborate  unconsciousness  of  the  fact  that  she 
might  be  unwelcome.  She  stopped  as  she  saw 
the  girl's  frightened  expression.  "Sure,  dear 
child,"  she  exclaimed  anxiously,  "it's  sick  you 
are!" 

Julia  tried  to  smile.  "Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "but 
I  am  very  tired.  And" — hesitatingly — "I  am  a 
little  worried  that  my  sister  is  not  at  home  yet. 
I  hoped  to  find  her  here." 

"Oh,  she's  all  right,"  soothed  the  matron.  "I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  in  the  hall  this  noon  when 
she  came  home,  just  like  she  did  yesterday,  to  fix 
up  for  the  afternoon.  Her  working  hours  ain't 
hard  on  her,  that's  sure." 


A  Bitter  Experience          163 

She  paused,  but  as  Julia  made  no  reply,  she 
continued:  "You  mustn't  worry  about  her,  my 
dear  child.  She'll  have  to  learn  sooner  or  later 
to  fend  for  herself.  It's  yourself  I'm  worried 
about.  You're  as  white  as  the  pillow  slip  there. 
By  the  same  token,  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  thing 
for  you  to  lay  down  your  head  on  tha't  same  pillow 
and  get  a  mite  of  rest.  Do,  there's  a  good  child !" 

Julia  obeyed  the  suggestion  and  made  an  effort 
to  speak  gratefully.  "You  are  very  kind,  Mrs. 
Halloran,"  she  said;  then,  with  a  gasp,  she  added: 
"Oh,  I  wish  that  my  sister  would  come !  It's  get- 
ting late!" 

It  had  been  at  this  juncture  that  the  door  was 
pushed  open  by  Caryl  herself.  So  there  was,  be- 
sides disapproval,  perhaps  a  little  baffled  curiosity 
in  the  sentiments  which  made  Mrs.  Halloran  glare 
indignantly  at  the  newcomer  as  she  left  her  and 
Julia  alone. 

But  all  that  Caryl  understood  was  that  her 
sister  was  angry  with  her  for  having  lied  to  her. 
It  is  very  hard  to  forgive  one  whom  we  have 
deceived  and  who  has  discovered  our  deception. 
Caryl  Marvin  was  proving  this  fact,  and  was  so* 
uncomfortable  in  the  experience  that  she  felt  no 
twinge  of  sympathy  for  her  sister;  indeed,  she 
did  not  give  a  moment's  thought  to  the  anxiety 
that  Julia  might  have  suffered.  Why  couldn't  an 


164  The  Two  Sisters 

older  girl  mind  her  own  business  and  let  a  younger 
one  have  a  good  time  in  her  own  way?  There 
was  sullen  spitefulness  in  the  reply  she  made  to 
Julia's  threat  to  ask  Kelley  Delaine  with  whom 
Caryl  had  spent  the  afternoons  of  yesterday  and 
to-day. 

"Ask  him,  if  you  like,"  she  sneered.  "A 
pretty  show  you'd  make  of  yourself  going  to  his 
rooms  and  prying  into  my  affairs,  and  whining 
'Who  went  out  with  my  sister?'  as  if  he  was  the 
ruler  of  my  actions  when  I  am  not  busy  with  his 
work!  I  can  just  fancy  what  he  would  think  of 
you  if  you  did  that.  Besides,  while  you  claim  to 
be  so  prim  and  proper,  I  hardly  see  how  you  can 
suggest  going  alone  to  any  man's  rooms  on  such 
a  private  matter  as  this.  You  may  think  I  am 
imprudent,  but  I  am  sure  that  I  would  not  do  such 
a  vulgar  thing.  You  really  ought  to  have  more 
care  for  your  reputation,  Julia.  I  tell  you  it  takes 
the  goody-goody  girls  like  you  to  do  the  kind  of 
thing  you  propose!  To  his  rooms,  indeed!  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  propose  it." 

This  sudden  reversal  of  positions  made  Julia 
gasp  with  astonishment.  Caryl  might  not  be  wise, 
she  might  not  seem  to  have  any  especial  intellect, 
but  she  was  no  fool  where  her  own  interests  were 
concerned,  and  she  was  quick  to  see  her  advantage 
and  to  seize  it 


A  Bitter  Experience          165 

"I  really  think,"  she  continued,  with  a  grand  air 
of  hauteur,  "that  if  matters  have  come  to  this 
point  we'd  better  not  discuss  them  further  just 
now.  I  mean  to  get  myself  ready  for  dinner  in- 
stead of  wasting  time  talking.  If  you  are  going 
to  get  anything  to  eat  this  evening  I  advise  you  to 
follow  my  example." 

Julia's  temper  burst  forth  in  a  final  flare.  "How 
dare  you  talk  as  if  I  were  in  the  wrong  and  you 
in  the  right!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  know  you 
have  twisted  matters  to  suit  your  own  ideas  and 
have  not  answered  a  single  one  of  my  questions! 
Have  you  no  explanations  to  give  me?" 

Caryl  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  she  started  to- 
ward the  hall  to  wash  at  the  sink  outside  the  door. 
"I  only  know,"  she  said  quietly,  "that  facts  speak 
for  themselves,  and  that  I  have  been  automobiling 
in  the  broad  daylight  while  you  are  proposing  to 
go  to  a  man's  apartment  now  to  ask  him  some 
personal  question." 

"You  know  I  did  not  expect  to  go  to-night!" 
protested  Julia. 

"Oh,  didn't  you?"  answered  Caryl.  "Well, 
I'm  glad  you  didn't."  Then  the  sound  of  water 
rushing  from  the  cold  water  faucet  as  she  turned 
it  on  made  further  conversation  for  the  present 
impossible. 

Not  until  their  silent  dinner  was  ended,  and  the 


1 66  The  Two  Sisters 

two  girls  were  returning  to  their  lodgings,  did 
Julia  refer  again  to  any  matter  of  a  personal  na- 
ture. Then  she  spoke  with  some  embarrassment. 

"As  I  was  coming  from  work,"  she  remarked, 
"I  met  Mr.  Delaine.  He  apologized  for  stop- 
ping me,  but  as  he  had  not  our  address  he  had  no 
other  way  of  communicating  with  you.  He  wished 
me  to  tell  you  that  he  has  been  called  out  of  town 
for  a  day  or  so,  and  will  not  want  you  to-morrow. 
As  the  next  day  will  be  Sunday,  I  suppose  you  are 
not  to  report  for  duty  until  Monday  morning." 

"Going  away,  is  he?"  mused  Caryl.  "I  wish 
I  had  known  it  sooner,"  she  added,  as  if  to  her- 
self. "Well,  that  means  that  I  have  a  whole 
working  day  on  my  hands  and  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  But  I  guess  I'll  survive  it." 

Julia  wanted  to  remind  her  sister  that  her 
clothes  needed  repairing,  but  she  stifled  the  ex- 
pression of  this  thought.  What  good  would  it 
do  to  remind  Caryl  of  the  mending  that  should 
be  done?  The  child  detested  sewing,  and  Julia 
had  made  it  her  business  to  keep  her  own  clothes 
and  Caryl's  in  repair,  although  this  meant  taking 
many  stitches  late  in  the  evening  and  on  Sunday — 
the  only  day  she  had  for  rest.  During  July  and 
August  Baird's  store  had  closed  at  noon  on  Satur- 
days, but  on  these  half  holidays  Caryl  had  wanted 
to  go  to  some  place  of  amusement  or  to  do  any- 


A  Bitter  Experience          167 

thing  rather  than  remain  at  home.  Julia  appre- 
ciated with  uneasiness  that  to-morrow  Caryl 
would  have  an  entirely  free  day.  What  would 
she  do  with  it?  If  Satan  finds  some  mischief  for 
idle  hands,  here  would  be  his  opportunity.  Some- 
thing must  be  suggested  to  occupy  the  girl's  time. 

"Why  not  rest  the  first  part  of  the  day  to-mor- 
row," Julia  proposed,  "and  then,  as  the  store 
closes  at  five  on  Saturdays,  come  there  for  me 
and  we  will  go  for  a  short  trolley  ride.  Or,  if 
you  don't  mind  eating  at  some  inexpensive  place, 
I'll  take  you  to  supper  somewhere,  and  we  can 
take  our  trolley  ride  afterward.  There  is  a  moon, 
and  the  weather  promises  to  be  warm  and  clear." 

She  spoke  affectionately,  even  beseechingly, 
linking  her  arm  in  her  sister's  as  they  walked. 
That  Caryl  did  not  jerk  away  from  her  comforted 
her  companion.  The  child  was,  then,  no  longer 
angry  with  her. 

"Oh,  I'll  do  any  old  thing  you  want  to  do,"  as- 
sented Caryl.  "The  plan  you  mention  does  not 
sound  wildly  exciting  to  me,  but  it's  better  than 
spending  the  evening  in  Halloran  Hovel.  If 
nothing  pleasanter  turns  up,  I'll  go  with  you." 

Julia  tried  not  to  feel  chagrined  at  the  ungra- 
cious acceptance  of  her  invitation.  She  also  tried 
not  to  remember  how  hard  she  had  to  work  for 
her  money,  nor  how  many  things  she  needed  more 


168  The  Two  Sisters 

than  she  needed  the  proposed  outing.  She  must 
wait  a  while  longer  before  getting  the  new  gloves 
she  wanted,  and  her  old  hat  was,  after  all,  not  so 

very  shabby.    And  Caryl  must  be  amused. 
******* 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  when  Caryl  awoke, 
dressed,  made  herself  a  cup  of  coffee  and  left  the 
house.  The  hours  until  five  o'clock  lay  like  a 
blank  before  her.  She  felt  life  to  be  flat,  stale 
and  unprofitable  in  its  present  aspect.  Yet  here 
was  an  entire  free  day  and  nothing  to  do  with  it! 
If  she  had  only  known  that  Delaine  was  to  be 
away,  she  would  have  told  Somerdyke  and  he 
might  have  suggested  another  automobile  jaunt, 
for  it  was  evident  that  he  was — as  she  phrased  it 
to  herself — "just  crazy  about  her."  Perhaps  if 
she  went  over  to  Delaine's  apartment  she  might 
meet  "Harry"  there.  Why  could  she  not  pre- 
tend that  Julia  had  forgotten  to  deliver  her  em- 
ployer's message  and  that  she  was  coming  to 
work  as  usual?  Of  course,  it  was  late  in  the 
morning,  but  Somerdyke  would  not  ask  embar- 
rassing questions. 

A  wiser  or  more  sophisticated  girl  would  have 
appreciated  the  folly  of  her  plan.  It  was  not 
likely  that  the  man  who  filled  her  thoughts  would 
be  at  his  friend's  rooms  when  that  friend  was 


A  Bitter  Experience          169 

absent.  But  Caryl  Marvin  caught  eagerly  at  the 
chance  of  seeing  him  again. 

When  she  reached  Delaine's  apartment  she 
rang  in  vain  at  the  door-bell.  There  was  no  re- 
sponse, for  Delaine  had  given  his  man  the  day 
off,  a  fact  which  Caryl  learned  with  disappoint- 
ment when  she  questioned  the  elevator  boy.  Baf- 
fled and  vexed,  she  walked  along  the  street  and 
turned  into  Fifth  Avenue,  strolling  downtown 
aimlessly,  until  she  found  herself  at  the  corner  of 
Thirty-fourth  Street.  As  she  recognized  the  Wal- 
dorf-Astoria, she  remembered  how  she  had  hur- 
ried through  the  hotel  to  escape  Somerdyke,  and 
an  impulse  seized  her  to  saunter  through  the  place 
as  though  she  were  accustomed  to  being  there. 
Assuming  a  blase  expression,  she  entered  the  hotel 
and  went  past  various  doors  and  corridors  as  if 
she  were  familiar  with  them  all,  and  as  if  she 
knew  where  each  one  led. 

At  last  she  paused  irresolute  at  the  entrance  to 
a  large  room  in  which  she  saw  articles  that  at- 
tracted her  longing  gaze,  then,  as  other  persons 
entered  this  room,  she  followed  them.  Here 
there  was  a  display  of  dainty  French  embroidered 
costumes,  and  the  beauty  of  them  made  the  girl 
thrill  with  delight.  One  pink  gown  on  a  lay  fig- 
ure, topped  by  a  pink  picture  hat,  attracted  her 
especially.  Ah,  if  she  could  only  have  that! 


170  The  Two  Sisters 

"That's  rather  nice,  isn't  it?"  she  heard  a  girl- 
ish voice  say  in  the  crowd  close  to  her,  and  a  mas- 
culine voice  responded  with  a  laugh — "It  looks 
like  strawberry  ice  cream,  doesn't  it?" 

At  the  familiar  intonations  and  laugh,  Caryl 
turned  and  faced  the  couple  who  were  now  right 
behind  her — Somerdyke,  and  with  him  a  hand- 
somely dressed  young  girl  into  whose  eyes  he  was 
looking  admiringly. 

"Excuse  me,  but  may  I  pass?"  said  Caryl 
softly,  but  with  a  coquettish  toss  of  her  head.  She 
was  sure  that  when  Somerdyke  saw  her  he  would 
leave  this  other  woman. 

The  man  started,  and,  meeting  Caryl's  eyes, 
bowed  gravely,  without  returning  her  sudden 
smile  of  recognition,  then  stood  aside  to  allow 
her  to  pass  out.  The  fashionably  attired  girl  had 
not  noticed  the  encounter,  and  as  Caryl  Marvin, 
flushed  and  mortified,  hurried  away  she  saw  Som- 
erdyke turn  once  more,  with  a  smile,  to  his  pretty 
companion. 


XV 

AN   EVENING  TROLLEY  RIDE 

IN  all  her  short  life  Caryl  had  never  been  so 
chagrined  and  wounded  as  she  was  by  Harry  Som- 
erdyke's  cavalier  manner  when  she  met  him  with 
another  girl.  As  the  poor  little  stenographer 
walked  away  from  the  great  hotel,  her  heart  was 
hot  within  her.  Her  vanity  was  cut  to  the  quick. 
She  was  not  accustomed  to  receiving  attention 
from  men,  and  she  had  believed  from  Somerdyke's 
manner  that  he  found  in  her  the  most  attractive 
woman  he  had  ever  met. 

If  not,  why  had  he  sought  her  society  and  paid 
her  such  marked  attention?  She  had  supposed 
that  after  he  knew  her  better  he  would  ask  her 
to  be  his  wife.  She  had  made  mental  pictures  of 
the  home  she  would  sometime  have,  above  all  of 
the  beautiful  gowns  she  would  wear,  gowns  as 
handsome  as  the  one  she  had  seen  on  the  lay  fig- 
ure in  the  costume  exhibit  at  the  Waldorf.  Yet 
just  now  when  she  saw  the  man  of  her  dreams  in 
the  company  of  a  fashionable  girl  he  had  hardly 

171 


172  The  Two  Sisters 

recognized  his  companion  of  the  day  before,  and 
his  bearing  had  been  cold  and  haughty.  She  had 
suddenly  felt  that  he  was  looking  down  upon  her, 
and  that  in  his  estimation  she  was  inferior  to  the 
pretty  creature  by  his  side. 

Hour  after  hour,  while  she  walked  the 
streets,  then  returned  to  her  room  and  tried  to 
rest,  the  fire  of  indignation  burned.  At  five 
o'clock,  as  arranged  last  night,  she  met  her  sister 
at  the  entrance  to  Baird's. 

"Well,"  said  Julia,  as  the  pair  started  together 
toward  Broadway,  "where  shall  we  get  something 
to  eat?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,"  replied  Caryl  listlessly. 

"My  plan,"  remarked  Julia,  ignoring  the  in- 
different manner,  "is  to  get  an  early  supper,  go  on 
the  subway  uptown,  and  from  there  take  the  trol- 
ley out  into  the  country,  or  at  least  into  the  sub- 
urbs. It  ought  to  be  lovely  out  there  to-night, 
for  there  is  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky  and  there  is 
going  to  be  a  gorgeous  moon." 

"All  right,"  assented  Caryl.  "I  have  some 
things  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about,  and  all  that 
time  together  will  give  me  a  chance." 

"Is  anything  wrong?"  asked  Julia  solicitously. 

"Everything's  wrong!"  exclaimed  Caryl.  "But 
I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it  now." 

She  had  brooded  so  long  upon  her  grievance 


An  Evening  Trolley  Ride     173 

that  she  felt  she  must  share  it  with  her  sister. 
While  matters  went  pleasantly,  she  did  not  need 
Julia,  but  when  they  went  awry  she  turned  to  her 
instinctively.  However,  she  did  not  feel  like 
talking  just  yet.  She  was  faint,  for  she  had  eaten 
no  luncheon,  as  her  temper  had  taken  away  her 
appetite.  Her  sister  eyed  her  anxiously  when 
she  learned  of  her  fasting. 

"Why,  my  dear  little  girl,"  she  demurred,  "you 
should  not  starve  yourself  like  that." 

"I  wasn't  hungry,"  said  Caryl.  "But  do  let's 
get  something  decent  to  eat  now.  I'm  sick  of 
cheap  messes." 

Julia  hesitated.  "Then  you  would  rather  not 
go  to  Wild's  for  supper  perhaps?"  she  suggested. 

"Indeed  I  would  rather  not!"  returned  Caryl. 
"Do  let's  go  to  some  restaurant  that's  not  so  com- 
mon." 

"Swell  restaurants  are  entirely  beyond  my 
means,"  Julia  reminded  her  timidly.  Then  she 
remembered  that  she  had  heard  one  of  the  floor- 
walker's in  Baird's  talking  to  a  friend  of  a  cer- 
tain Italian  restaurant  where  one  could  "get  a 
good  dinner  with  wine  for  seventy-five  cents." 
This  did  not  seem  cheap  to  Julia,  but  it  was  her 
duty  to  make  sacrifices  for  Caryl. 

"Suppose  we  go  to  Banta's?"  she  suggested, 
and  was  rewarded  by  a  smile  from  her  companion. 


174  The  Two  Sisters 

"Good  I"  agreed  Caryl.  "You  are  some  sport, 
after  all,  aren't  you?" 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  two  girls  faced 
each  other  across  the  little  table  in  the  Italian 
restaurant.  It  was  early,  and  there  were  few 
other  diners  there  yet. 

"What  kind  of  wine?"  asked  the  waiter.  "Red 
or  white?" 

"We  do  not  want  wine,"  began  Julia,  but  Caryl 
interrupted  her  swiftly. 

"You  may  not  want  it,  but  /  do  1"  she  declared. 
"Red  wine,  waiter!" 

It  was  sour  stuff,  she  thought,  when  she  tasted 
it,  but  with  Julia's  anxious  eyes  upon  her  she  deter- 
mined to  drink  it.  She  was  warm  and  thirsty,  so 
she  did  not  find  it  hard  to  gulp  down  the  thin, 
acid  liquid.  It  was  not  strong  enough  to  make 
her  feel  stupid  and  queer  as  did  the  high-ball  of 
yesterday,  but  it  did  loosen  her  tongue,  and,  as  she 
ate,  she  talked  more  freely  than  usual  to  her 
sister.  She  did  not  tell  her  of  the  luncheon  or  the 
automobile  excursion  with  Somerdyke,  but  she 
told  her  of  how  she  had  met  twice  at  Delaine's 
the  author's  friend  whom  she  had  already  men- 
tioned to  Julia,  and  that,  although  in  Delaine's 
apartment  he  had  been  "most  polite"  to  her, 
when  she  had  met  him  to-day  walking  with  a  styl- 
ish, fashionable  girl,  he  had  "as  good  as  cut  her." 


An  Evening  Trolley  Ride     175 

"Just  as  if  I  wasn't  good  enough  to  talk  to 
him!"  she  burst  forth.  "It  broke  me  all  up, 
Judy — it  really  did.  It  made  me  understand  that 
the  girl  who  works  for  her  living  is  despised  by 
people  higher  up." 

"Nonsense!  Nothing  of  the  kind!"  declared 
Julia.  "You  are  as  good  as  anybody  else.  But 
the  girl  who  is  as  poor  as  you  or  I  cannot  afford 
to  go  about  with  men  who  have  money  and  who 
are  in  an  entirely  different  circle  from  us.  We 
should  confine  ourselves  to  people  in  our  own 
class.  We  owe  that  to  ourselves,  dear." 

"And  who  are  the  men  in  our  class?"  Caryl 
asked,  with  indignation. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Julia  slowly,  "who  are 
the  men  in  our  class.  I  do  not  chance  to  know 
any  of  them.  But  I  do  know  that  an  educated 
and  successful  man  like  Mr.  Delaine,  and  such 
men  as  his  friends  would  naturally  be,  certainly 
are  not  in  our  class.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say 
that,  little  sister,  but  it  is  true!  We  must  meet 
them  in  business,  but  suppose  that  you  and  I  prom- 
ise each  other  to  avoid  them  socially.  Is  that  an 
agreement?" 

The  tears  were  too  near  the  surface  for  Caryl 
to  speak,  but  she  shook  her  head  obstinately. 

Unhappy  as  she  thought  herself  to  be,  she 
enjoyed  her  dinner  at  the  Italian  restaurant.  The 


176  The  Two  Sisters 

repast  finished,  she  suggested  that  she  and  Julia 
take  a  trip  across  the  river  rather  than  into  the 
country  beyond  the  city,  as  first  planned.  Ac- 
cordingly they  soon  found  themselves  crowded 
with  homegoers  and  pleasure-seekers  on  the  deck 
of  the  boat  bound  for  Fort  Lee.  All  at  once  a 
merry  voice  behind  them  exclaimed:  "Well,  I 
declare,  if  there  isn't  Miss  Marvin!"  and,  turn- 
ing, Julia  came  face  to  face  with  Laura  McDon- 
ough,  from  the  lace  department  in  Baird's.  With 
her  was  another  young  woman  whom  she  intro- 
duced as  "my  friend,  Miss  Plant." 

"My,  but  the  world's  a  small  place !"  exclaimed 
Laura,  as,  greetings  having  been  exchanged,  the 
four  girls  fell  to  chatting.  "Here  Miss  Marvin 
and  me  are  together  all  day  at  Baird's,  yet  we 
meet  again  out  here  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 
Your  sister  don't  look  a  bit  like  you,"  she  added, 
looking  at  Caryl. 

Caryl  tried  to  smile.  She  did  not  feel  like  talk- 
ing with  these  "shop-girls,"  and  wondered  how 
Julia  could  be  so  polite  to  them. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Laura.  "Nel- 
lie asked  me  to  come  out  for  a  bit  of  air  with  her, 
so  that's  how  we  happen  to  be  here." 

"We  expect,"  said  Julia,  "to  take  a  trolley  that 
goes  up  through  Englewood  or  some  other  pretty 
place.  There  is  one  line,  I  think,  that  runs  on  out 


An  Evening  Trolley  Ride     177 

toward  Paterson.  We  can  get  off  at  any  point  we 
like  and  come  back,  you  know,  for  I  don't  want 
to  be  out  late." 

"We'll  go  that  way,  too,"  declared  Laura. 

It  was  when  the  quartet  were  on  the  trolley 
rushing  over  the  hills  beyond  the  Palisades  that 
Caryl  called  her  sister's  attention  to  two  young 
men  seated  on  the  other  side  of  the  car  watching 
Laura  and  her  companion.  "Common  looking 
things!"  she  muttered  contemptuously. 

Julia  started  in  surprise  when  one  of  the  men, 
leaning  across,  spoke  cheerfully  to  Laura  and 
Miss  Plant;  but  neither  of  the  girls  addressed 
seemed  to  resent  the  intrusion. 

"Yes,"  Julia  heard  Miss  Plant  say,  "it  is  a 
lovely  evening,"  and  a  moment  later  Laura,  jump- 
ing up  from  her  seat,  came  back  to  the  Marvin 
girls  and  asked  them  if  they  would  care  to  "be 
presented  to  the  young  gentlemen"  they  had  "just 
made  acquaintance  with."  Julia  declined  firmly. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said.  "My  sister  and  I 
prefer  to  talk  to  each  other." 

Laura  smiled,  unabashed.  "All  right,"  she 
said.  "I  think  there's  more  fun  in  having  a  nice 
gentleman  with  you.  But  everybody  has  their 
own  ideas  of  pleasure."  And  she  returned  to  her 
seat. 

At  Hackensack  Julia  suggested  to  Caryl  that 


178  The  Two  Sisters 

they  get  out  and  take  the  next  car  back  to  New 
York.  It  was  getting  late  and  both  girls  were 
tired.  They  bowed  to  Laura  and  Miss  Plant  as 
they  passed  them  on  their  way  out. 

"Going  home  already?"  called  Laura.  "We're 
going  on  to  Paterson.  So  long !" 

"Good  night!"  returned  the  girls  quietly. 

They  were  seated  together  on  the  city-bound 
car  and  were  speeding  over  stretches  of  country 
roads  before  either  of  the  sisters  spoke  again. 
Caryl's  thoughts  were  a  curious  medley  of  the 
drive  she  had  taken  along  here  only  yesterday 
with  Harry  Somerdyke,  and  of  the  behavior  of 
the  two  girls  they  had  just  left.  She  had  been 
disgusted  with  Laura  McDonough  and  her  com- 
panion for  allowing  those  ordinary-looking  men  to 
talk  with  them ;  yet  did  not  all  young  people  like 
merry  society,  and  did  they  not  have  a  right  to 
what  they  could  get?  Had  she  not  a  right  to  take 
such  happiness  as  had  been  hers  yesterday?  And 
suddenly  the  strong  necessity  of  speech  partially 
overcame  her  secretiveness,  and  she  turned  im- 
pulsively, even  affectionately,  to  her  sister. 

"Judy!"  she  exclaimed  softly,  "I  want  to  be 
happy!  I  was  happy  yesterday.  I  came  along 
this  very  part  of  the  country  with  the  nicest  man 
I  have  ever  known." 


An  Evening  Trolley  Ride     179 

"Tell  me  about  it,  dear,"  Julia  urged  gently. 
Was  her  sister  going  to  confide  in  her  at  last? 

Caryl  told  all  that  she  thought  it  best  to  tell, 
omitting  any  mention  of  the  high-balls.  Julia, 
remembering  the  smell  of  liquor  on  the  girl's 
breath,  noticed  this  omission,  and  knew  that  Caryl 
was  withholding  perhaps  as  much  as  she  was  tell- 
ing. She  longed  to  warn  the  child  before  it  was 
too  late.  But  how  do  it?  Tactfully,  she  drew 
her  companion's  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
man  who  had  taken  her  driving  was  a  rich,  edu- 
cated man,  while  she  was  but  a  poor  stenographer. 
It  would  be  wiser,  she  counseled,  for  a  girl  in 
such  a  position  to  be  sure  what  the  intentions  of  a 
man  were  before  receiving  favors  from  him. 
Caryl  disagreed  strenuously,  and  the  altercation 
continued  until  they  had  reached  the  New  York 
side  of  the  river. 

"You  mean,"  said  Caryl  hotly,  as  they  crossed 
the  square  toward  the  downtown  car,  "that  I 
must  make  up  my  mind  never  to  know  a  real 
gentleman?" 

"Dear,"  protested  Julia,  "I  did  not  say  that !  I 
only  claim  that  a  poor,  none-too-well-educated 
girl,  in  our  class,  should  not  accept  the  seeming 
devotion  or  the  marked  attention  of  a  man  in  a 
circle  much  above  her." 

"Oh  I  I  wish "  began  Caryl  angrily.      She 


180  The  Two  Sisters 

stopped  suddenly.  Toward  them  was  coming  the 
man  who  had  followed  them  on  the  street  weeks 
ago  and  had  spoken  to  them  afterward  in  the  res- 
taurant. He  was  hurrying  to  catch  the  ferry  and 
did  not  see  the  girls  until  he  was  abreast  of  them. 
Then  he  lifted  his  hat  with  a  flourish  as  he  ran 
by  them. 

"Good  evening!"  exclaimed  Caryl,  in  a  high- 
pitched,  excited  voice. 

Her  sister  clutched  her  arm  when  the  man  had 
passed.  "Caryl!"  she  gasped,  "what  do  you 
mean  by  speaking  to  that  dreadful  man?" 

"I  mean,"  declared  Caryl  defiantly,  "that  if  I 
belong  to  a  class  of  girls  that  cannot  associate 
with  gentlemen,  I  may  as  well  learn  to  associate 
with  the  kind  of  man  who  belongs  to  the  class  in 
which  you  put  me!" 

It  was  when  they  were  seated  side  by  side  on 
the  downtown  car  that  Julia  Marvin  answered  her 
sister's  declaration  of  defiance. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  steadying  her  voice  to  calm- 
ness, "you  did  not  mean  what  you  just  said.  You 
were  angry,  dear.  Let's  forget  all  about  it." 

But  in  her  heart  she  was  sick  with  fear  of  what 
Caryl  might  do  if  angered  or  thwarted  in  her 
own  desires  or  inclinations. 


XVI 

CARYL  WRITES   TO   SOMERDYKE 

As  the  day  following  the  trolley  ride  into  New 
Jersey  was  Sunday,  Julia  Marvin  awoke  late.  As 
she  raised  her  head  from  the  pillow  a  pain  shot 
through  her  temples  and  she  fell  back  with  a  low 
moan  that  aroused  Caryl  from  her  slumbers. 

"What's  the  matter,  Judy?"  she  asked,  sitting 
up  and  eyeing  her  sister  anxiously.  "You  look 
awfully  white.  Are  you  ill?" 

Julia  tried  to  smile  and  reply  as  if  she  were  not 
suffering,  but  the  pain  was  now  surging  through 
her  brain  in  hot,  nauseating  waves,  each  one  worse 
than  its  predecessor. 

"No,"  she  faltered,  "I'm  not  really  ill — but 
I've  got  one  of  my  beastly  sick  headaches  again. 
It  hurts  pretty  badly  just  at  present." 

"Then  you  must  lie  still,"  Caryl  declared,  lay- 
ing a  cool  hand  upon  her  sister's  forehead.  She 
was  always  at  her  sympathetic  best  in  the  presence 
of  physical  suffering,  and  Julia  looked  at  her 
gratefully  as  she  noted  her  unwonted  tenderness. 

181 


1 82  The  Two  Sisters 

"Yes,  lie  still,"  the  younger  girl  repeated.  "I'll 
dress  very  quickly  and  get  Mrs.  Halloran  to  make 
you  some  toast  and  a  cup  of  black  coffee.  I'll 
not  attempt  to  make  it  up  here,  for  the  smell  of 
the  cooking  would  make  you  worse.  Mrs.  Hal- 
loran will  be  glad  to  do  something  for  you.  Then 
I'll  darken  the  room  and  we'll  see  if  the  pain 
doesn't  get  better." 

"Oh,"  protested  Julia,  "I  really  ought  to  get 
up." 

Again  she  raised  her  head,  but  sank  back  with 
a  little  cry  of  pain. 

"I  won't  get  up  just  yet,"  she  acknowledged 
weakly.  "Maybe  my  head  will  be  better  later 
on.  It's  lucky  it's  Sunday,  for  I'd  be  in  a  bad 
condition  to  work  to-day." 

"Lucky?"  scoffed  Caryl.  "You  have  funny 
ideas  of  luck,  Judy.  I  think  it's  mighty  hard  lines 
to  be  sick  on  the  one  day  of  the  week  that  you 
have  to  yourself.  But  don't  try  to  talk  any  more 
just  now.  I  will  be  dressed  very  soon  and  then 
you  shall  see  what  a  cup  of  Mrs.  Halloran's 
coffee  tastes  like." 

The  kindly  Irish  woman  was  deeply  concerned 
at  the  news  that  Caryl  brought  to  her. 

"Sick,  is  she!"  she  exclaimed.  "Now  ain't  that 
too  bad!  To  be  sure  I'll  make  her  a  cup  of  coffee, 
hot  and  so  strong  that  it'd  bear  up  an  egg.  Speak- 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    183 

in'  of  eggs,  now,  do  you  think  she  could  ate  a  real 
nice  one  poached?" 

Caryl  admitted  that  her  sister  might  be  per- 
suaded to  do  so,  and  a  poached  egg  accompanied 
the  fragrant  coffee  and  hot  toast  which,  fifteen 
minutes  later,  she  bore  upstairs  on  a  tray. 

Julia  ate  a  little,  more  because  she  knew  it 
would  please  Mrs.  Halloran  than  because  she 
had  any  appetite.  Then,  when  the  shades  had 
been  drawn  down,  the  bed  clothes  straightened 
and  the  pillows  smoothed,  Julia  insisted  that  Caryl 
go  out  for  a  walk,  while  she,  herself,  would  try 
to  sleep. 

It  was  a  bright  blue  and  gold  day,  with  a  fresh 
wind  from  the  north  making  the  air  fresh  and 
cool,  despite  the  warmth  of  the  September  sun. 
Caryl  walked  idly  along  Fifth  Avenue,  peering 
into  shop  windows  or  looking  enviously  at  the 
dainty  gowns  of  the  women  who  passed  her  in 
automobiles  and  cabs.  She  glanced  down  several 
times  at  her  own  shabby  little  frock  and  her  lip 
curled  disdainfully. 

"I  wish  we  were  rich,"  she  sighed,  and  forgot 
Julia  and  her  headache  in  dreams  of  what  she 
would  wear  and  do  if  she  were  wealthy.  Espe- 
cially attractive  was  one  dream  in  which  she  made 
Harry  Somerdyke  suffer  abjectly  for  his  cavalier 
treatment  of  her  yesterday.  She  was  awakened 


184  The  Two  Sisters 

from  a  particularly  spiteful  scheme  for  revenge 
by  the  sound  of  her  name,  and  looking  up  she 
found  Kelley  Delaine  standing  directly  in  front  of 
her.  He  wore  a  light  gray  suit  and  hat,  and  a 
white  shirt  with  a  soft  collar.  In  this  rather  in- 
formal costume  he  seemed  to  Caryl  more  hand- 
some than  usual. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  smile, 
and  lifting  his  hat.  "Your  thoughts  must  be  very 
pleasant  to  make  you  so  deaf  to  all  the  world 
about  you.  Where  are  you  going  all  alone  at  this 
time  of  day?  It's  too  late  for  church.  And 
where's  your  sister?" 

"In  bed;  she's  ill,"  Caryl  replied  curtly. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that!"  he  exclaimed 
with  such  earnestness  that  the  girl  could  not  doubt 
his  sincerity.  "She  isn't  seriously  ill,  is  she?" 

"No,"  admitted  Caryl,  "but  she  has  a  fearful 
headache." 

"That's  too  bad!"  he  murmured,  absent-mind- 
edly. "Are  you  going  home  now?  I  will  walk 
along  with  you  if  you  will  allow  me  to." 

"No,  I  am  not  going  home  now,"  she  replied, 
still  stiffly.  "I  have  come  out  to  get  a  little  fresh 
air  before  I  go  back  to  take  care  of  Julia." 

"I  see,"  he  reflected.  "Well,  if  that's  the  case 
I'll  go  along  now  and  let  you  get  your  breath  of 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    185 

fresh  air.  I  shall  not  expect  you  until  Tuesday 
morning,  Miss  Marvin.  Oh,  by  the  way,  kindly 
give  me  your  address  that  I  may  mail  your  check 
to  you  to-night." 

Reluctantly  Caryl  gave  the  address  to  him. 
Under  the  circumstances  there  seemed  no  way 
out  of  it.  This  done,  she  bowed  coldly  in  return- 
ing his  salute,  and  walked  away.  She  did  not  like 
Kelley  Delaine,  she  mused.  Somehow  he  made 
her  feel  all  the  time  lately  like  a  naughty  child 
who  had  been  caught  with  her  fingers  in  the  jam 
pot. 

An  hour  later,  as  she  softly  opened  the  door  of 
the  darkened  room  in  which  Julia  lay,  she  stopped, 
conscious  of  an  unexpected  fragrance.  The  fresh 
smell  of  roses  hung  in  the  air.  Julia  turned  to- 
ward her  as  she  entered. 

"How  is  your  head  now,  dear?"  asked  Caryl. 
"And  who  ever  sent  you  these  wonderful  flow- 
ers?" she  added,  bending  over  a  great  bouquet 
that  stood  in  a  bowl  on  the  table. 

"My  head's  better,"  answered  Julia.  "No  card 
came  with  the  flowers,  so  I've  no  way  of  being 
sure  who  sent  them." 

But  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  knew  who 
the  sender  was. 

That  Caryl  could  resist  the  temptation  to  ask 
questions  when  it  suited  her  plan  to  seem  incur- 


1 86  The  Two  Sisters 

ious,  was  proved  by  the  fact  that  she  made  no 
further  inquiries  with  regard  to  the  roses. 

Julia's  head  was  better,  but  as  she  did  not  feel 
well  enough  to  go  out  to  the  midday  dinner,  Caryl 
went  alone  to  their  usual  eating  place.  On  her 
way  home  she  stopped  at  a  small  shop  which 
chanced  to  be  open  to-day,  and  bought  a  cheap 
novel  which  she  read  all  the  afternoon.  Sitting 
on  one  chair,  her  feet  on  another,  she  became  so 
much  absorbed  in  her  story  that  it  was  almost 
dark  before  she  put  the  book  down.  Julia  sug- 
gested then  that  her  sister  go  to  the  delicatessen 
shop  at  the  corner  and  get  something  to  eat,  as 
she  herself  wanted  only  the  cup  of  tea  and 'bit 
of  bread  and  butter  which  Mrs.  Halloran  would 
bring  up  for  her  supper.  Then,  as  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do,  Caryl  undressed  and  went  to 
bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 

While  Julia  slumbered  the  younger  girl  lay 
still,  thinking  out  the  problems  of  her  own  life 
and  likening  them  to  those  of  the  heroine  of  the 
foolish  novel  over  which  she  had  spent  so  many 
hours.  Why  might  not  she,  Caryl  Marvin,  be 
like  the  girl  in  that  book?  Why  might  not  she 
marry  a  rich  and  handsome  man  and  become  "a 
society  leader  and  queen"?  That  her  ideas  were 
ridiculous  did  not  occur  to  the  sentimental  child 
whose  imagination  had  been  inflamed  by  pages  of 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    187 

nonsensical  and  fantastic  romance.  As  she  had 
read,  she  had  imagined  herself  in  the  place  of  the 
heroine,  and  as  the  hero  stalked  through  the 
book,  he  bore  to  her  mind's  eye  the  image  of 
Harry  Somerdyke.  Surely  what  one  girl  had 
done  another  might  do,  and  where  one  had  suc- 
ceeded another  might  succeed. 

But  how  could  she  again  attract  Somerdyke? 
She  remembered  once  more  with  a  surge  of  anger 
his  cavalier  treatment  of  herself  in  the  presence 
of  another  girl.  But  had  not  the  heroine  of  her 
novel  "trusted  though  all  the  world  should  say 
her  nay"?  And  had  not  the  hero  always  some 
good  reason  for  his  strange  actions?  She  would, 
at  least,  give  Somerdyke  a  chance,  she  said  to  her- 
self, when  she  should  see  him.  But  when  would 
that  be?  If  she  only  knew  his  address  she  would 
find  some  excuse  for  writing  to  him. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  Julia's  warning  of 
the  previous  evening,  and  she  smiled  to  herself  in 
the  dark  as  she  recalled  it.  Julia  was  a  good  one 
to  talk  when  all  the  while  she  was  having  an  affair 
with  somebody  who  sent  her  flowers — probably 
Kelley  Delaine  himself.  What  could  attract  him 
in  Julia — if  it  was  really  he  who  had  sent  her 
those  flowers? 

Caryl's  reason  for  showing  no  great  curiosity 
with  regard  to  the  floral  offering  was  that  she  did 


i88  The  Two  Sisters 

not  want  to  give  her  sister  an  opportunity  to  re- 
new the  subject  of  the  night  before — that  of  the 
imprudence  of  a  poor  girl's  receiving  favors  from 
men — nor  give  her  a  chance  to  declare  that  she, 
Julia  Marvin,  had  not  encouraged  such  attentions 
from  any  man.  Were  she  to  do  this,  Caryl  would 
not  be  able  in  the  future  to  declare  that  Julia  had 
been  as  imprudent  as  her  younger  sister  had  ever 
been.  This  was,  to  the  indiscreet  girl's  way  of 
thinking,  a  case  where  ignorance  spelled  wisdom. 

Although  she  had  lain  awake  until  late,  when 
she  awoke  the  following  morning  her  eyes  were 
large  and  bright,  her  face  flushed  and  lovely. 
Julia  was  already  dressed  and  looked  pale  and 
haggard  compared  with  her  sister  as  she  bent  to 
kiss  her  good-bye.  An  hour  later  Caryl,  with  a 
smile  of  sly  amusement,  pinned  two  of  Julia's 
pink  roses  in  her  belt  just  before  starting  for  De- 
laine's studio.  He  had  told  her  he  would  not 
want  her  to-day,  but  she  could  explain  that  she 
had  thought  perhaps  he  might  have  changed  his 
mind,  so  had  reported  for  work  in  case  he  had 
reconsidered  his  determination. 

It  was  a  bold  bit  of  stratagem,  but  she  felt  able 
to  carry  it  out.  She  would  watch  Kelley  Delaine's 
face  as  he  saw  the  roses.  If  he  flushed  she  would 
know  that  he  had  sent  the  Killarney  beauties  to 
Julia. 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    189 

Wang  had  evidently  received  no  word  that  he 
was  not  to  admit  his  master's  stenographer,  and 
as  Delaine  called  out  "Come  in!"  in  reply  to  her 
knock  on  the  door  of  the  study  Caryl  entered  with 
assumed  shyness. 

"I  know  you  said  you  would  not  expect  me,  Mr. 
Delaine,"  she  hastened  to  assure  him,  "but  as  I 
had  a  whole  day  on  my  hands  I  thought  I  would 
stop  in  just  to  make  certain  that  you  had  not 
something  you  wanted  me  to  do." 

"Oh,  that's  kind  of  you,"  replied  Delaine. 
Then,  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  roses,  he  did  not 
flush  as  she  had  expected,  but  smiled  with  per- 
fect composure.  "Those  are  pretty  roses,"  he 
remarked  casually.  "Been  treating  yourself, 
eh?" 

"No,"  she  said  gravely.  "A  friend  sent  them 
to  me." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  he  remarked,  with  such  indiffer- 
ence that  she  felt  her  cheeks  burn.  "Yes,  it  was 
kind  of  you  to  come,  but  it  so  happens  that  I'm 
just  starting  off  for  a  day  up  in  Connecticut."  He 
glanced  at  his  watch.  "By  Jove !"  he  exclaimed. 
"I've  hardly  time  to  make  my  train  now.  Excuse 
me,  please,  if  I  hurry  right  off !" 

He  caught  up  his  hat,  threw  a  light  coat  over 
his  arm  and  rushed  from  the  room,  and  a  second 
later  she  heard  the  front  door  slam  behind  him. 


190  The  Two  Sisters 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment,  listening,  then, 
with  a  swift,  cat-like  tread,  glided  across  the  floor 
to  Delaine's  desk.  She  had  seen  an  address  book 
lying  there.  It  probably  contained  Harry  Som- 
erdyke's  name.  Picking  it  up,  she  ran  her  eye 
down  the  page  under  S.  His  name  was  there,  but 
under  it  were  only  a  street  and  number  in  a  for- 
eign city.  With  an  impatient  movement,  she 
tossed  the  little  leather  book  back  upon  the  desk. 

As  she  did  so,  a  letter  Delaine  had  written, 
addressed  and  sealed,  and  evidently  forgotten  to 
mail,  dropped  to  the  floor.  Instinctively  she 
stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  as  she  did  so,  she  saw 
that  it  was  directed  to  Harry  Somerdyke  at  a 
small  hotel  of  which  she  had  never  heard.  Re- 
peating the  address  over  and  over  to  herself,  she 
left  the  apartment  so  noiselessly  that  Wang,  en- 
tering the  study  five  minutes  later,  was  surprised 
to  find  it  empty. 

She  did  not  remember  the  exact  number  of  the 
house,  but  she  remembered  on  what  street  it  was. 
Just  for  fun,  she  thought,  she  would  walk  in  that 
direction,  so  she  turned  down  toward  the  Forties. 
When  she  reached  the  street  she  was  seeking  she 
went  into  a  drug  store  and  consulted  a  directory 
to  ascertain  where  the  hotel  itself  was. 

"Number  57  West,"  she  muttered.  "Then  it 
can't  be  far  from  Fifth  Avenue.  It  costs  money, 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    191 

I  guess,  to  live  in  this  neighborhood."  She  was 
speedily  reaching  the  point  where  to  her  a  man's 
worth  depended  entirely  on  the  size  of  his  pocket- 
book. 

She  strolled  along  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
from  that  on  which  the  hotel  was  located,  and 
looked  up  curiously  at  the  windows.  In  her  old 
home,  she  reflected,  she  would  have  thought  this 
building  large  and  imposing,  but  compared  with 
the  huge  caravansaries  she  had  seen  in  New  York 
it  looked  small,  though  handsome.  Had  she 
known  the  price  of  a  small  suite  of  rooms,  even 
in  this  unpretentious  hotel,  she  would  have  been 
shocked  and  amazed. 

She  wondered  if  Somerdyke  were  at  home  now. 
If  he  only  would  come  out  of  the  building  and 
meet  her  how  easily  she  could  express  surprise  at 
learning  that  he  lived  right  here  in  the  very  hotel 
she  chanced  to  be  passing !  But  he  did  not  appear, 
and  the  girl  went  on,  planning  a  letter  she  would 
write  to  him.  She  must  make  some  excuse  for 
communicating  with  him,  and  needed  leisure  to 
plan  it.  She  might  telephone  to  him;  but,  al- 
though she  had  small  care  for  the  proprieties,  she 
shrank  from  hearing  his  voice  ask  coldly :  "What 
do  you  want?"  when  she  really  did  not  know  just 
what  reply  to  make  to  such  a  question. 

Suddenly  a   happy  thought   occurred  to   her. 


192  The  Two  Sisters 

Why  tell  him  just  yet  what  she  had  to  say  to  him  ? 
Why  not  keep  him  a  bit  mystified?  That  would 
give  her  time  to  elaborate  some  story  with  which 
she  might  account  to  him  for  her  desire  to  see  him. 
She  would  go  home  and  write  the  letter. 

But  here  again  she  paused.  She  had  only  the 
cheap  pad-paper  and  envelopes  with  which  she 
and  Julia  sent  an  occasional  line  to  their  father. 
Letter-writing  was  one  of  the  occupations  in  which 
the  Marvin  girls  had  had  no  cause  to  engage  since 
their  arrival  in  New  York.  Caryl  immediately 
determined  that  she  would  not  lower  herself  in 
this  man's  eyes  by  writing  on  a  cheap  pad,  and 
when  she  reached  a  large  stationery  store  she 
entered  it  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see  "some 
very  nice  note  paper."  She  did  not  appreciate 
that  this  shop  was  what  she  would  have  termed 
"an  awfully  swell  place,"  and  when  the  courteous 
salesman  showed  her  samples  of  "the  newest 
things  in  society  stationery"  she  was  almost 
frightened  at  the  price  he  named. 

"I  like  this  best,"  she  said,  touching  a  sample 
which  she  thought  looked  heavier  than  any  of  the 
others. 

"That  is  a  very  good  grade  of  paper,"  said  the 
clerk.  "Will  you  place  your  order  for  some  of 
this?" 

"What?"  stammered  the  girl. 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    193 

"I  mean  how  many  quires  shall  we  send  you, 
and  do  you  wish  it  engraved  with  your  address  or 
monogram?"  the  man  asked,  eyeing  her  keenly. 

Caryl  flushed  hotly.  Was  this  fellow  making 
fun  of  her?  she  wondered.  Did  he  suspect  what 
a  little  impostor  she  was?  If  so,  she  resolved 
swiftly  she  would  prove  to  him  that  she  was  no 
sham,  but  knew  a  thing  or  two. 

"No,"  she  replied,  looking  him  squarely  in  the 
eyes.  "I  have  just  come  to  New  York  and  have 
not  yet  selected  my  new  home.  Later  I  may  give 
you  an  order.  Just  now  I  want  to  try  different 
kinds  of  paper  until  I  decide  on  one  that  I  like. 
I  am  very  particular  in  such  matters." 

"Yes,  madam,"  said  the  youth  gravely,  and 
Caryl  thrilled  with  self-congratulation  as  she 
imagined  she  had  impressed  him  at  last.  "Then 
you  want  only  a  quire  or  two?  Shall  I  send  it?" 

"One  quire  will  be  enough  for  me  to  try,  and  I 
will  take  it  with  me,"  she  said  stiffly. 

Her  heart  smote  her  as  she  paid  for  her  pur- 
chase, for  she  knew  she  could  have  bought  a  sat- 
isfying lunch  at  Wild's  for  what  this  was  costing 
her.  Nevertheless  it  was  a  good  investment  if  it 
brought  Somerdyke  back  to  her. 

The  appreciation  of  her  extravagance  in  one 
line  did  not  move  her  to  economy  in  another,  and 


194  The  Two  Sisters 

she  lunched  as  heartily  as  usual  before  going 
home. 

Seated  at  the  little  table  in  the  window  of  her 
room,  she  scribbled  on  the  cheap  pad  paper  the 
first  draft  of  her  letter,  then  read  it  carefully, 
adding  a  comma  here  and  correcting  a  word  there. 
Again  and  again  she  tore  up  one  effort  and  began 
another.  Even  after  she  had  made  one  or  two 
"clean  copies"  on  her  new  paper,  she  destroyed 
these  and  wrote  others. 

At  last  she  accomplished  something  which  she 
felt  did  her  justice,  and  she  re-read  it  several 
times,  nodding  approvingly  as  she  did  so,  and 
whispering  "Good!"  more  than  once. 

"Dear  Mr.  Somerdyke,"  (the  letter  ran).  "Ex- 
cuse me  for  bothering  you.  But  there  is  a  little 
matter  of  a  personal  kind  concerning  me  that 
moves  me  to  think  I  had  better  have  a  talk  with 
you  and  ask  your  advice.  You  know  I  have  not 
any  advisers  in  this  big  city,  so  I  turn  to  you.  Are 
you  too  busy  with  your  many  friends  to  give  me 
a  moment's  time?  If  not,  and  you  will  send  me  a 
line  in  care  of  my  employer,  I  will  get  it.  I  do 
not  care  to  have  you  send  it  to  this  cheap  board- 
ing-place where  I  am  staying  only  for  a  little 
while,  for  reasons  of  my  sister's,  not  of  my  own, 
for  it  is  humiliating  to  me  to  have  to  be  here. 
Yours  truly,  CARYL  MARVIN." 


Caryl  Writes  to  Somerdyke    195 

"There!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  guess  even  that 
little  peacock  he  had  with  him  at  the  Waldorf  the 
other  day  couldn't  write  a  sweller-looking  note 
than  that!" 

And  with  a  sigh  of  admiration  of  her  epistolary 
abilities,  she  went  to  the  coiner  and  mailed  the 
result  of  her  afternoon's  labors. 


XVII 

A   TALK   IN  THE    PARK 

MONDAY  was  always  a  hard  day  at  Baird's 
store,  and  this  particular  Monday  was  no  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  To  begin  with,  the  girls  at  the 
lace  counter  were  out  of  sorts  and  tired — Julia, 
because  of  the  headache  that  had  tortured  her 
nerves  on  Sunday;  her  fellow  clerks,  because  of 
ithe  gay  experiences  of  the  day  before.  After  the 
fashion  of  New  Yorkers,  they  sought  recreation 
so  strenuously  and  to  such  late  hours  on  their  one 
holiday  that  they  were  utterly  fagged  out  when 
working  time  came  again.  To  make  unpleasant 
conditions  worse  the  day  was  hot.  Summer,  in 
departing,  seemed  to  be  mustering  all  her  forces 
of  heat  in  one  final  effort  to  cause  discomfort. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  store,  never  too  good,  was 
warm  and  moist,  and  filled  with  a  hundred  war- 
ring odors. 

The  purchasers  at  the  lace  counter  were  exact- 
ing, and  it  took  all  of  Julia's  self-control  to  keep 
her  impersonal  smile  on  duty  and  her  voice  calm 

196 


A  Talk  in  the  Park          197 

and  polite  in  spite  of  the  myriad  annoyances  that 
beset  her  to-day.  Her  fellow  saleswomen  were 
openly  impatient,  and  more  than  once  called  down 
upon  themselves  the  reprimand  of  the  floor 
walker,  who  was  not  in  a  forbearing  mood  him- 
self. 

It  was  a  half  hour  before  closing  time.  Julia 
had  just  noted  this  with  an  inward  prayer  of 
thanksgiving  and  had  then  turned  to  straighten 
out  once  more  the  stock  of  laces  which  a  pre- 
tended purchaser  had  handled  and  tumbled.  The 
floor  walker  approached  and  stood  watching  her 
for  a  moment  before  breaking  the  silence. 

"It's  been  a  trying  day,  hasn't  it?"  he  asked 
affably  at  last. 

"Rather  trying,"  Julia  admitted,  smiling  wanly. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  he  continued,  with  an  elab- 
orately casual  manner,  "when  you  come  in  to- 
morrow morning  will  you  remember  that  the  man- 
ager would  like  to  see  you  as  soon  as  he  gets  to 
his  office?" 

The  girl's  heart  missed  a  beat  and  she  felt  her- 
self grow  pale. 

"Is  there  any  trouble?"  she  asked  unsteadily. 

The  man  laughed.  "None  for  you,  at  any 
rate,"  he  assured  her.  "But  there  is  going  to  be 
a  shake-up  in  this  department,  though  I  wouldn't 
let  that  worry  me  if  I  were  you.  In  fact,  unless  I 


198  The  Two  Sisters 

am  mistaken,  the  result  will  benefit  you.  If  you 
will  go  to  Mr.  Borland's  office  on  the  eighth  floor 
at  about  nine-thirty  to-morrow  he  will  be  able  to 
tell  you  more  than  I  can." 

He  nodded  to  her  and  walked  away,  and  Julia, 
somewhat  cheered  and  not  a  little  excited  by  this 
indefinite  good  news,  went  on  with  her  arrange- 
ment of  the  stock. 

At  ten  minutes  past  six  she  stepped  out  of  the 
sultriness  of  the  store  into  the  hot  roar  of  the 
street  and  made  her  way  slowly  uptown.  In  spite 
of  the  thought  of  what  the  morrow  might  hold 
for  her  in  the  way  of  advancement  she  felt  de- 
pressed. The  noise  and  heat  of  the  streets  of- 
fered no  respite  from  the  bustle  and  humidity  of 
Baird's.  The  people  who  passed  her  looked  dirty 
and  uncomfortable.  The  rattle  of  the  cars  seemed 
louder  than  usual.  Even  the  pavements  looked 
hot  and  there  was  the  reek  of  warm  asphalt  in 
the  air. 

As  she  plodded  on  uptown  against  the  current 
of  workers  from  the  Twenties,  sweeping  down  to- 
ward their  homes  on  the  lower  East  Side,  she 
mused  of  how  pleasant  it  must  be  to  have  the 
means  to  run  away  out  of  town  as  Delaine  could. 
She  watched  the  westering  sun  paint  golden  the 
shabby  fagade  of  a  stone  building,  and  she  thought 


A  Talk  in  the  Park          199 

of  how  beautiful  that  glow  must  be  on  free  fields, 
running  streams  and  green  trees.  For  a  moment 
she  hated  the  squalor  and  noise  about  her  and  felt 
that  she  must  get  away  from  it. 

She  had  walked  until  she  was  abreast  of  the 
little  park  where  she  and  Delaine  had  sat  for  such 
a  little  while  one  afternoon  last  week.  A  foun- 
tain leaped  and  fell  here,  and  the  trees  and  grass, 
vivid  in  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun,  made  the  place 
look  like  an  oasis  in  the  middle  of  the  sordid  city. 
Urged  by  a  whimsical  impulse,  she  turned  aside 
into  one  of  the  winding  pathways  of  the  park. 
She  meant  to  go  to  the  bench  where  she  and  the 
author  had  talked  together,  and  rest  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. In  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  appreci- 
ated that,  as  a  person  who  had  determined  to  be 
utterly  independent  in  her  fight  for  a  livelihood, 
she  thought  too  often  of  Delaine.  She  did  not 
feel  in  the  mood  to  chide  herself  for  the  touch  of 
sentiment  that  had  driven  her  to  this  place  just 
now.  She  was  too  hot  and  tired  to  feel  much  in- 
itiative concerning  anything. 

So  deep  was  her  abstraction  that  she  did  not  see 
a  tall  figure  rise  from  a  seat  as  she  approached  and 
come  eagerly  toward  her.  It  was  not  until  he 
spoke  her  name  that  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the 
pavement  in  front  of  her  and  met  the  gaze  of  Kel- 
ley  Delaine.  Then  she  blushed  and  looked  sud- 


2OO  The  Two  Sisters 

denly  more  girlish  and  shy  than  she  had  at  any 
time  in  the  months  she  had  spent  in  New  York. 

"I  was  hoping  you  would  come,"  said  the  man. 
He  held  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  his  handsome  face 
was  lighted  by  a  smile  of  frank  pleasure.  "I 
played  a  long  shot  in  coming  down  here  to-day, 
and  now  that  I  have  won  I  am  blissfully  content." 

Julia  smiled  happily  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
him.  Surely  just  for  these  few  minutes  she  might 
let  herself  be  natural !  There  were  so  many  hours 
when  she  must  be  practical  and  common-sensible 
and  cautious  that  she  might  have  this  little  respite 
from  the  dull  round  she  had  planned  as  her  life 
in  this  great  city. 

"It's  very  pleasant  to  see  you  again,  Mr.  De- 
laine," she  confessed.  "To  tell  the  truth,  there 
are  several  things  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about." 
She  grew  suddenly  grave  as  she  thought  of  Caryl, 
then  continued:  "But  I  really  didn't  expect  you 
to  be  here " 

"Don't  say  the  rest  of  it!"  pleaded  the  man. 
"Let  me  fancy  at  any  rate  that  you  were  thinking 
a  little  of  the  last  talk  we  had  here  in  the  haven  of 
down-and-outs.  Now,  if  we  can  find  a  bench  un- 
occupied by  some  free  and  independent  voter  of 
our  great  republic,  shan't  we  sit  down  ?  We  really 
can  talk  better  if  we  are  comfortably  seated,  you 
knowl" 


A  Talk  in  the  Park         201 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  after  they  sat 
down  on  the  bench  in  the  little  park.  Their  minds 
were  so  full  of  personal  and  intimate  thoughts 
that  any  casual  comment  would  seem  trivial.  The 
man  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Is  your  headache  better?"  he  asked  gently. 
"You  are  pale  still,  but  I  do  hope  the  pain  is 
over." 

"Oh,  I  am  much  better,"  the  girl  assured  him. 
Then  she  demanded  suddenly:  "But  how  did  you 
know  I  had  a  headache?" 

"Your  sister  told  me  when  I  met  her  out  walk- 
ing yesterday  noon,"  he  replied. 

Julia  started  in  surprise.  "You  met  Caryl!" 
she  exclaimed.  "She  did  not  mention  it  to  me." 

"Didn't  she?"  returned  the  man  briefly.  Se- 
cretly he  was  musing  that  there  were  probably 
many  things  Caryl  did  not  tell  her  sister. 

"Then,"  said  Julia,  flushing  consciously,  "that 
was  why  you  sent  me  those  beautiful  roses — be- 
cause you  knew  that  I  was  ill.  It  was  very  good 
of  you,  Mr.  Delaine." 

"How  did  you  suspect  I  sent  them?"  he  asked 
quickly.  "You  have  other  friends  besides  me." 

"Indeed  I  haven't!"  the  girl  protested — "at 
least  not  like  you."  Then  she  stopped,  confused. 
"I  mean" — she  stammered — "that  I  know  very 
few  people  in  New  York,  and  those  few  only 


2O2  The  Two  Sisters 

slightly.  I  ought  not  to  say  that  I  have  no  friends 
— for  there  are  people  who  are  very  kind  to  me. 
There  is  our  landlady,  Mrs.  Halloran — she's  as 
good  as  gold  to  me.  And  the  girls  in  the  store  are 
friendly  enough,  although  I  do  not  know  any  of 
them  well.  In  fact,  I  have  made  no  intimates  in 
New  York,  and  my  sister  and  I  are  very  much 
alone.  Each  of  us  is  all  the  other  one  has." 

Her  voice  trembled  slightly,  and  a  question  with 
regard  to  the  man  Caryl  had  met  at  Delaine's 
apartment  arose  to  her  lips.  But  before  she  could 
summon  courage  to  voice  her  thought,  her  com- 
panion spoke  again. 

"Any  one  of  the  persons  you  have  mentioned 
might  have  sent  you  the  roses  for  which  you  thank 
me,  Miss  Marvin,"  he  reminded  her.  "Why, 
then,  did  you  know  at  once  that  they  came  from 
me?" 

"Because,"  she  replied  frankly,  looking  at  him, 
"my  little  sister  cannot  afford  to  make  such  gifts, 
and  none  of  the  other  people  I  know  care  enough 
for  me  to  do  so." 

She  paused  suddenly,  scarlet  and  embarrassed. 
Without  meaning  to,  she  had  admitted  to  this  man 
that  she  believed  he  cared  more  for  her  than  did 
any  other  acquaintance  she  had  in  this  great  city. 
She  attempted  to  repair  her  blunder. 


A  Talk  in  the  Park          203 

"That  is,"  she  hastened  to  explain,  "the  others 
would  not  have  as  kindly  a  feeling " 

He  interrupted  her.  "Please,  Miss  Marvin," 
he  begged,  "let  your  first  sentence  stand  un- 
changed. It  was  absolutely  true.  Nobody  else 
in  New  York  could  care  as  much  about  you  as  I 
do." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!"  she  begged.  "You  do 
not  know  me  at  all  yet,  and  I  probably  would  not 
improve  upon  acquaintance." 

"Does  any  other  man  know  you  any  better?" 
he  asked  abruptly,  a  jealous  glint  in  his  eyes. 

She  tried  to  smile.  "There's  no  other  man  in 
New  York  who  knows  me  at  all  well,"  she  ac- 
knowledged. 

"Thank  goodness!"  he  exclaimed  so  fervently 
that  they  both  laughed.  The  laugh  relieved  the 
strain  and  each  spoke  more  freely  after  it. 

"As  I  told  you,"  Julia  said,  "I  do  not  let  myself 
know  many  people  intimately.  I  am  in  the  city 
with  the  purpose  of  making  an  honest  living.  I 
have  no  time  to  spend  in  forming  friendships. 
Moreover,  to  be  honest,  if  I  cannot  know  the  kind 
of  people  I  would  want  to  associate  with,  I  would 
rather  keep  myself  to  myself.  If  I  were  to  meet 
the  nicest  sort  of  persons,  my  present  means  and 
position  would  make  it  impracticable  for  me  to 


204  The  Two  Sisters 

associate  with  them.  So  I  would  not  meet  them  if 
I  could,  and  I  certainly  could  not  if  I  would." 

She  meant  to  speak  calmly,  but  a  note  of  bitter- 
ness crept  into  her  voice.  She  was  young  and  at- 
tractive, yet  she  was  cut  off  by  circumstances  from 
association  with  young  people  of  tastes  similar  to 
her  own.  The  man  felt  a  great  throb  of  pity  for 
her. 

"Yet  in  your  own  home,"  he  began,  then 
checked  himself.  He  would  not  pry  into  her  af- 
fairs. She  spared  him  the  necessity  of  further 
inquiry. 

"My  own  mother  died  several  years  ago,"  she 
said  simply.  "She  was  all  the  friend  we  girls 
needed  while  we  had  her.  My  father  married 
again — and  our  stepmother  is — different.  So  we 
came  to  New  York." 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  recalled.  "Your  sister  mentioned 
the  facts  to  me." 

"Did  Caryl "  she  began.  But  she  did  not 

finish  her  sentence.  A  tall,  good-looking  man  was 
coming  toward  them  along  the  little  path,  and,  as 
Kelley  Delaine,  recognizing  him,  arose  to  his  feet, 
the  new  arrival  removed  his  hat  with  a  slight  bow 
toward  Julia. 

"Hello,  Delaine!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  chanced 
to  be  walking  along  here  and  thought  I  recognized 
you  sitting  here  like  one  of  the  bits  of  human  drift- 


A  Talk  in  the  Park         205 

wood  one  finds  on  a  park  bench.  I  have  just  come 
from  my  hotel,  but  the  last  mail  before  I  left  had 
brought  me  no  letter  from  you.  I  wrote  to  you 
a  day  or  so  ago,  asking  you  if  you  cared  to  buy 
a  certain  horse  I  know  of.  A  friend  of  mine  owns 
him,  and  as  he — the  friend,  not  the  horse — is  go- 
ing abroad,  wants  to  sell  him.  He  is  a  good 
mount,  so  I  thought  at  once  of  you  and  wrote  you 
the  facts." 

"And  I  replied,"  declared  Delaine.  "I  wrote 
you  this  morning,  just  before  leaving  for  Stamford 
where  I  had  to  go  on  a  little  matter  of  business. 
What  did  I  do  with  that  letter?"  he  muttered.  "I 
declare !"  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  recollection,  "I 
must  have  forgotten  to  mail  it!  It  is  probably 
lying  on  my  desk  still.  I  just  got  back  from 
Connecticut  an  hour  ago,  and  haven't  been  home 
yet." 

"I  see,"  replied  Somerdyke.  But  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  Julia,  and  he  was  evidently  waiting  to  be 
introduced  to  her. 

Kelley  looked  slightly  annoyed  as  he  noted  the 
ill-concealed  curiosity  with  which  Somerdyke  re- 
garded Julia.  The  girl,  herself,  glanced  from  one 
man  to  the  other,  mystified  by  the  attitude  of  each. 
It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  this  stranger  was  the 
person  of  whom  her  sister  had  talked.  Caryl  had 
purposely  omitted  mentioning  his  name,  so  when 


206  The  Two  Sisters 

at  last — and  with  evident  reluctance — Delaine 
spoke  it,  Julia  was  not  impressed  by  it. 

"Miss  Marvin,"  the  author  said  gravely, 
standing  with  uncovered  head,  "please  allow  me 
to  present  Mr.  Somerdyke." 

Somerdyke  bowed  low,  his  eyes  still  on  the 
girl's  face. 

"I  am  honored  at  meeting  you,  Miss  Marvin," 
he  said  courteously.  "I  am  so  happy  as  to  have 
met  your  sister  already." 

"Indeed  1"  returned  Julia.  "You  know  my  sis- 
ter?" 

"One  of  your  sisters  at  least,"  suggested  Somer- 
dyke. "But  I  fancy  that  you  have  two — a  younger 
one,  whom  I  know,  and  another,  much  older  than 
either  of  you." 

"No,"  she  insisted,  "I  am  the  only  other  Miss 
Marvin  in  our  small  family."  Then  an  explana- 
tion of  his  error  presented  itself  to  her  mind  and 
she  laughed.  "We  are  evidently  talking  at  cross 
purposes,"  she  said,  "and  the  girl  you  think  is  my 
sister  is  some  other  Miss  Marvin's  sister." 

"Indeed  she  is  not,"  protested  Somerdyke,  "un- 
less the  charming  secretary  in  the  employ  of  this 
lucky  man  here  is  not  your  sister." 

As  he  spoke  Julia  remembered  all  that  Caryl 
had  said  of  Delaine's  caller,  and  her  face  sobered 


A  Talk  in  the  Park          207 

instantly.  She  felt  an  instinctive  distrust  of  the 
man  and  arose  quickly  to  her  feet. 

"It  is  getting  late  and  I  must  go  home,"  she 
remarked,  turning  to  Kelley.  "Good  evening, 
Mr.  Delaine." 

"I  am  going  to  walk  a  part  of  the  way  with 
you,"  Delaine  declared.  "So  long,  Somerdyke! 
I'll  'phone  you  to-night  or  to-morrow  morning 
about  that  horse." 

But  Somerdyke  was  not  to  be  thus  lightly  dis- 
missed until  he  had  explained  his  mistake  to  this 
attractive  girl. 

"Pardon  me  for  intruding  just  a  moment 
longer,"  he  pleaded,  falling  into  step  with  Julia 
and  Delaine  as  they  started  toward  the  park  en- 
trance, and  at  his  tone  of  entreaty  the  pair  halted. 
"I  think  I  owe  you  an  apology,  Miss  Marvin,  for 
my  blunt  manner  of  speaking  just  now.  You  see 
your  sister  had  told  me  of  you,  and  of  where  you 
are  living  to  get  atmosphere  and  local  color  for 
your  stories,  and  of  the  writing  you  do, — and 
hearing  all  that  I  had  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  you  were  a  much  older  person  than  you  are. 
See?  You  can  hardly  wonder,  you  know,  that  I 
was  surprised  at  seeing  that  such  a  talented  and 
courageous  person  was  still  a  mere  girl.  But  you 
will  forgive  me,  won't  you?" 

The  color  faded  slowly  from  Julia's  face  as  she 


208  The  Two  Sisters 

listened,  but  she  forced  herself  to  smile  bravely. 
Seeing  that  smile,  and  appreciating  that  it  con- 
cealed either  a  great  hurt  or  a  great  fear,  Kelley 
Delaine  felt  sweep  over  him  a  wave  of  emotion 
that  had  in  it  more  of  love  than  of  pity.  How  fine 
she  was — how  plucky,  and  what  a  thoroughbred! 
But  his  face  remained  absolutely  unmoved. 

"Your  explanation  was  really  unnecessary,  Mr. 
Somerdyke,"  Julia  said  gently.  "My  little  sister 
in  her  fondness  for  me  has  quite  unintentionally 
attributed  to  me  abilities  and  talents  which  I  do 
not  possess,  and  has  been  so  prejudiced  in  my 
favor  that  she  has  not  kept  strictly  within  the 
bounds  of  fact  in  talking  of  me.  Still  I  am  sure 
you  will  pardon  the  sister-love  that  made  her  ex- 
aggerate as  she  has  done.  Good  evening!" 

There  was  a  finality  about  her  tone  that  made 
even  Somerdyke  hesitate  to  linger  longer,  and, 
once  more  lifting  his  hat,  he  turned  away  and 
hurried  uptown.  The  man  and  girl,  left  together, 
walked  silently  toward  the  street  along  which 
trolleys  were  rushing  and  clanging. 

"What  an  infernal  noise  there  is  everywhere 
to-night!"  exclaimed  Delaine  impatiently.  "See 
here — I  can't  stand  this  kind  of  thing!" 

Without  asking  her  permission,  he  hailed  a 
passing  taxi-driver,  and,  heedless  of  the  girl's 
protest,  insisted  on  helping  her  into  the  cab. 


A  Talk  in  the  Park          209 

"Once  around  Central  Park — then  I'll  give  you 
the  next  order,"  he  said  to  the  chauffeur. 

Julia  spoke.timidly.  "Please  don't  let  him  drive 
up  to  my  door  when  you  take  me  home,"  she 
begged.  "Leave  me  at  the  corner  of  my  street. 
I  don't  want  to  be  seen  getting  out  of  a  cab  at 
Mrs.  Halloran's." 

"All  right,  child — it  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  Kel- 
ley  agreed  gently.  "Now,  just  close  your  eyes 
until  we  get  into  the  park,  then  open  them  on  the 
beauty  and  greenness  there." 

To  obey  was  an  actual  relief.  Yet,  when,  once 
in  the  park,  she  tried  to  speak,  tears  arose  to  her 
eyes  and  her  voice  broke. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "I'm  ashamed  of  myself — but 
I'm  worried  about  my  sister!  Is  that  the  man — 
the  man — she  went  motoring  with?" 

"If  so  I  never  knew  it!"  exclaimed  Delaine  in 
surprise.  "I  know  he  invited  her  out  to  luncheon, 
but  as  I  advised  her  against  going  without  asking 
you  if  she  might,  I  supposed  that  she  followed  my 
advice." 

In  a  less  anxious  moment  Julia  would  have 
seen  the  humor  of  this  man's  thinking  that  Caryl 
would  follow  his  counsel  when  it  was  contrary 
to  her  own  inclination,  but  just  now  her  fear  over- 
came all  other  sensations. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Delaine,"  she  quavered,  "she  is  such 


2io  The  Two  Sisters 

a  dear  child,  and  so  pretty,  and  so  unsophisticated! 
If  I  only  had  some  one  to  advise  me  about  her  1" 

For  a  moment  the  man  did  not  speak.  Then  he 
laid  a  firm  hand  on  her  cold  and  trembling  fingers. 

"Miss  Marvin,"  he  said,  "this  is  no  time  for 
foolish  reserves.  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do  to 
help  you,  please  tell  me.  You  believe  that  I  am 
your  friend — don't  you?" 

And  the  girl,  looking  straight  into  his  honest 
eyes,  replied:  "I  know  it!" 


XVIII 

A  RIVER   EXCURSION 

AFTERWARD,  looking  back  at  that  drive,  Julia 
Marvin  wondered  at  the  frankness  with  which 
she  talked  to  Kelley  Delaine.  Only  once  did  he 
interrupt  her  and  that  was  when  he  told  the  driver 
of  the  cab  to  go  a  second  time  around  the  park. 
It  was  a  luxury  to  the  anxious  girl  to  confide  to 
this  sympathetic  listener  all  her  uneasiness  about 
her  pretty  sister,  even  to  acknowledge  to  him  that 
what  frightened  her  most  was  the  fact  that  Caryl 
had  grown  untruthful. 

"When  we  were  girls  at  home  she  never  would 
have  thought  of  saying  that  I  was  a  writer,  or  any 
such  nonsense  as  that,"  she  declared.  "She  has 
changed  in  her  tastes,  feelings — everything — since 
she  came  here." 

The  man  did  not  say  what  he  thought — namely, 
that  the  younger  girl  was  doing  things  of  which 
she  knew  her  sister  would  disapprove,  and  that 
she  loved  admiration  more  than  anything  else  in 
the  world.  But  he  promised  to  try  by  gentle  means 

211 


212  The  Two  Sisters 

to  win  Caryl's  confidence,  and  also  to  keep  Som- 
erdyke  or  any  other  man  from  interfering  with 
her  work  while  she  was  in  his  employ. 

"Of  course  what  she  does  when  she  is  not  with 
me  is  none  of  my  business,"  he  said.  "But  I  can 
and  will  have  a  talk  with  Somerdyke.  He  is  a 
man  of  the  world,  with  free  and  easy  notions; 
your  sister  is  a  mere  child;  he  should  not  pay  her 
such  marked  attentions — although  I  would  hate 
to  think  that  any  innocent  young  girl  would  not  be 
safe  with  Harry." 

"What  shall  I  do  about  telling  Caryl  that  I 
have  seen  you?"  asked  Julia  at  last.  "I  do  not 
want  to  keep  anything  away  from  her  that  she  has 
a  right  to  know,  but  if  she  suspects  that  we  have 
discussed  her — you  and  I — anything  that  you  may 
say  to  her  or  any  watch  that  I  may  keep  over  her 
will  be  resented  hotly.  This  is  one  of  the  times 
when  it  is  hard  to  know  what  stand  to  take." 

"If  I  might  suggest,"  said  Delaine,  "I  would 
advise  you  to  say  nothing  just  yet  of  our  meeting 
to-day.  Later,  when  we  have  won  the  girl's  con- 
fidence, we  may  make  her  understand  how  much 
we  have  longed  to  help  her — in  fact,  when  she  sees 
things  from  our  standpoint — as  she  must  some 
time — she  will  not  mind  knowing  of  our  talk  of 
her." 

This  was  masculine  sophistry,  and  in  the  depths 


A  River  Excursion  213 

of  her  heart  Julia  could  not  imagine  Caryl  in  the 
mental  attitude  which  her  companion  described. 
But  it  was  such  a  relief  to  her  to  have  talked  out 
her  problem  to  this  calm-nerved,  clear-headed  man 
of  the  world,  that  she  did  not  let  herself  dwell 
on  the  doubts  that  might  have  obtruded  them- 
selves. It  was  growing  dusk  when  at  last  Delaine 
gave  the  driver  the  address  of  a  drug  store  on  the 
corner  of  the  street  on  which  was  Mrs.  Halloran's 
house. 

"It  will  look  better  for  us  to  go  in  here  than  for 
us  to  go  away  as  soon  as  we  dismiss  the  cab,"  said 
Delaine.  And  Julia  was  grateful  to  him  for  his 
thought  of  appearances. 

This  same  thought  moved  him  to  tell  her  good 
night  at  the  door  of  the  drug  store  after  the  cab 
had  driven  off,  and  it  was  with  rapid  steps  and  an 
almost  light  heart  that  Julia  traversed  the  half 
block  separating  her  from  her  lodging  house.  She 
hurried  upstairs  to  her  room,  where  she  found 
Caryl  sleeping  soundly  on  the  bed.  The  girl  had 
posted  her  letter  and,  returning,  had  thrown  her- 
self down  to  rest  for  a  few  minutes  and  gone 
immediately  to  sleep. 

Softly,  that  she  might  not  awaken  her,  Julia 
went  about  getting  ready  for  dinner.  She  moved 
rapidly,  and  in  five  minutes  after  her  return  she 
touched  her  sister  gently  on  the  cheek. 


214  The  Two  Sisters 

"Come,  little  girl,"  she  called,  "get  up.  I've 
let  you  sleep  until  late,  and  we  must  hurry  to  din- 
ner. See,  it's  quite  dark." 

Caryl  sat  up,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  blinking  at 
the  light  which  Julia  now  turned  on. 

"Why,  how  quiet  you  must  have  been  all  this 
time!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  had  a  dandy  nap  any- 
how." 

Julia  was  relieved  that  her  sister  did  not  ask 
her  how  long  she  had  been  at  home.  Indeed 
Caryl's  mind  was  so  full  of  her  own  schemes  and 
of  thoughts  of  the  morrow,  and  of  Somerdyke's 
possible  reply  to  her  communication,  that  she  paid 
little  heed  to  Julia's  manners  or  appearance  until 
she  was  seated  opposite  her  at  the  small  table  in 
the  little  restaurant  where  they  usually  dined. 
Then  Caryl  gazed  at  her  sister  in  surprise. 

"I  declare,  Judy,"  she  said,  "you  look  lots  bet- 
ter to-night  than  you  did  this  morning!  Work 
seems  to  agree  with  you." 

Julia  laughed  happily.  "I  think  it  does  when 
it  promises  to  mean  an  advance,"  she  said.  "To- 
day the  floor  walker  suggested  that  perhaps  I 
might  get  a  promotion  of  some  kind  before  long 
— and  it  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  had  not  labored  in 
vain." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Caryl.  "I  feel  as  if  some- 
thing nice  was  going  to  happen  to  me,  too !  Oh, 


A  River  Excursion          215 

Judy" — with  a  deep  sigh — "wouldn't  it  be  won- 
derful if  after  all  our  troubles  and  worries  we 
were  both  to  get  everything  we  want  soon  1" 

uWe  can't  get  everything  we  want  soon," 
her  sister  reminded  her.  "If  we  did  I  don't  be- 
lieve we'd  enjoy  life  as  much  as  we  would  if  we 
made  our  way  up  more  slowly.  And  at  any  rate, 
if  I  can  only  make  good  in  my  work,  and  if  you 
are  only  well  and  contented  with  life  as  it  comes 
to  us,  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

Caryl  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Well  and  con- 
tented," she  repeated.  "I  am  always  well  enough, 
and  when  I  get  what  I  want  I'll  be  contented." 

"And  what  do  you  want?"  asked  Julia  fondly, 
smiling  into  the  girlish  face. 

But  the  smile  faded  as  she  noted  the  gleam 
that  came  into  her  little  sister's  eyes.  It  was  a 
gleam  almost  of  envy,  and  surely  of  bitterness. 

"I  want  wealth,  and  beautiful  clothes,  and  some 
one  to  give  them  to  me  and  to  give  me  all  the  good 
times  that  I  have  a  right  to !"  Caryl  declared,  her 
voice  taking  on  a  harsh  note.  "And  when  I  get 
those  things — and  not  until  I  do  get  them — I 
will  be  content!" 

"Let  us  go  for  a  walk,"  Caryl  Marvin  pro- 
posed to  her  sister  as  the  two  girls  emerged  from 
the  restaurant  at  which  they  had  dined.  "I've  had 


216  The  Two  Sisters 

an  awfully  stupid  day  while  you  have  been  at  the 
store." 

A  period  of  awkward  silence  had  followed 
Caryl's  enumeration  of  the  things  she  needed  to 
make  her  content,  and  Julia  welcomed  joyfully 
any  sign  of  a  happier  mood.  She,  herself,  was 
tired.  She  had  stood  so  much  that  her  feet  ached, 
and  the  thought  of  her  bed  filled  her  with  a  long- 
ing to  lie  down  in  it  and  rest.  But,  as  usual,  she 
put  aside  her  own  preferences  when  Caryl  ex- 
pressed a  desire. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  walk?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,"  said  Caryl,  with  a  swift  change  of  mood, 
"don't  let's  walk,  but  let's  go  where  we  can  see 
people  and  things.  Oh,  I  say,  I  have  a  happy 
thought!  Let's  go  to  Coney  Island !  The  season 
is  nearly  over,  you  know,  so  this  will  be  our  last 
chance." 

Julia  felt  a  strong  disinclination  to  accept 
Caryl's  suggestion.  She  had  been  to  Coney  Island 
once  already  and  remembered  how  crowded  the 
boat  had  been.  She  said  as  much  to  her  sister. 

"But  that  was  in  mid-summer,"  Caryl  reminded 
her.  "Lately  the  evenings  have  been  so  cool  that 
people  have  got  out  of  the  habit  of  going.  But 
this  night  is  a  hot  one,  and  the  breeze  on  the  water 
will  feel  so  good.  Do  come !" 

The  thought  of  the  letter  she  had  written,  and 


A  River  Excursion          217 

the  fact  that  she  would  have  to  be  in  suspense 
until  late  to-morrow  before  she  could  receive  an 
answer  to  it,  made  Caryl  restless.  She  wanted  to 
get  away  somewhere  or  do  something  to  make  the 
time  pass  quickly.  Having  taken  a  long  nap  late 
in  the  afternoon,  she  did  not  feel  the  need  of  rest 
as  did  her  sister. 

Julia  glanced  at  the  little  watch  that  had  been 
her  mother's.  "Well,"  she  agreed,  "we  can  take 
the  sail  down  to  the  island  and  back,  but  it  is  too 
late  for  us  to  think  of  going  ashore.  Do  you 
mind?" 

"Not  a  bit;  I  don't  want  to  go  ashore,"  said 
Caryl.  "I  just  want  the  sail." 

In  spite  of  Caryl's  arguments  that  the  "season" 
was  over,  there  were  crowds  at  the  pier  waiting 
to  get  on  the  boat.  Julia  detested  the  pushing 
and  struggling  for  place,  and  held  fast' to  Caryl. 
The  hot  day,  coming  after  a  week  of  compara- 
tively comfortable  weather,  had  made  many  per- 
sons seek,  as  did  the  girls,  the  breezes  from  the 
water. 

"Oh,"  breathed  Julia,  as  the  mass  of  heated 
humanity  began  to  move  toward  the  gangplank, 
"don't  you  think  we'd  better  go  back,  dear?  This 
is  an  awful  jam." 

But  Caryl  shook  her  head.    "No,"  she  insisted, 


218  The  Two  Sisters 

"when  I  start  to  do  a  thing  I  do  it.  And  we're 
going  on." 

"If  anyone  should  fall  down  in  this  crowd 
she'd  get  trampled  on,"  Julia  said. 

"Then  don't  fall  down!"  laughed  Caryl. 

As  she  spoke  the  crowd  surged  forward.  A 
kindly  elderly  man  on  one  side  of  Julia,  feeling 
the  girl  pushed  violently  against  him,  placed  his 
hand  under  her  elbow. 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear!"  he  said  quickly,  "but 
I'm  afraid  you'll  get  hurt  in  this  crowd." 

"Thank  you !"  murmured  Julia — then,  turning 
to  Caryl, — "Hold  fast  to  me,  dear.  Don't  let's 
be  separated." 

But  at  that  moment  there  was  a  rush  and  scram- 
ble from  those  back  of  her,  and  she  was  forced 
against  those  ahead.  She  felt  her  sister's  hand  on 
her  arm,  then  felt  the  hand  slip,  heard  a  fright- 
ened exclamation  from  the  girl  herself  and  glanced 
back  just  as  Caryl  lost  her  footing  and  stumbled 
blindly  forward.  Before  she  fell  a  strong  arm  was 
thrown  around  her  and  she  was  snatched  to  her 
feet. 

"Steady  there!"  said  a  hearty  voice,  and  Julia 
saw  her  sister  supported  by  a  broad-shouldered 
man.  "All  right  now?"  he  asked  as  he  released 
her  on  the  deck  of  the  boat. 

"Yes,  thank  you,"  responded  Caryl.    Without 


A  River  Excursion  219 

further  parley  the  man  got  two  camp  chairs  for 
the  girls,  placed  them  side  by  side,  then  lifted  his 
hat  and  excused  himself.  All  this  took  place  so 
swiftly  that  the  girls  had  only  time  to  say  "Thank 
you !"  before  he  was  bowing  himself  away. 

"I  am  to  meet  a  friend,"  he  explained.  "Good 
evening!" 

"How  kind  he  was !"  Julia  gasped,  as  he  disap- 
peared. 

"He  is  big  and  good-looking,"  said  Caryl.  "I 
like  big  men.  Oh,  Judy,  see,  here  comes  his 
friend!" 

She  peered  eagerly  over  the  railing  as  Harry 
Somerdyke  came  hurriedly  down  the  pier  and  was 
hailed  by  the  man  who  had  helped  her.  Then 
with  a  swift  desire  to  shield  herself  until  Somer- 
dyke should  receive  her  letter,  she  shrank  back. 

"I  know  that  man,"  she  murmured.  "But  I 
don't  want  him  to  see  me  here." 

Julia  had  recognized  the  new  arrival,  but  she 
did  not  want  to  betray  this  fact.  Instead,  she 
took  her  sister's  hand  in  hers,  an  impulse  of  grati- 
tude and  affection  moving  her  as  she  saw  that 
Caryl  wished  to  avoid  Somerdyke. 

"Dear  little  girl,"  she  said  tenderly,  "how  wise 
you  are  growing!  He  shall  not  see  you  nor  speak 
to  you." 

Only  a  part  of  her  prediction  proved  true.    For, 


22O  The  Two  Sisters 

the  trip  over,  the  crowd  of  passengers  was  surging 
ashore  when  Somerdyke's  friend,  Ben  Hadley, 
spoke  to  him  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  say,"  he  said,  "see  the  two  girls  down  there, 
just  landing?  The  little  one  is  a  peach." 

Somerdyke  laughed  as  he  saw  who  it  was.  "Oh, 
yes,  she's  all  right!  I  know  her,"  he  observed. 

"Introduce  me,  won't  you?"  pleaded  Hadley. 

Somerdyke  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "Very 
well,"  he  replied  at  last.  "I  don't  mind,  only" — 
dropping  his  voice  lower — "wait  a  while.  I  don't 
care  to  do  so  here  or  now." 


XIX 

DELAINE   APPEALS  TO  SOMERDYKE 

HARRY  SOMERDYKE  was  later  than  he  had 
meant  to  be  when  he  met  Ben  Hadley  on  the  Coney 
Island  boat.  Indeed  he  had  promised  to  be  at 
One  Hundred  and  Twenty-ninth  Street  at  least 
fifteen  minutes  ahead  of  time  so  that  he  and  Ben 
might  secure  good  seats.  But,  as  has  been  seen, 
he  arrived  just  in  time  to  get  on  board  before  the 
boat  left  the  pier.  And  Kelley  Delaine  was  the 
person  who  had  made  him  late. 

The  author,  after  parting  from  Julia  Marvin, 
started  for  his  apartments,  his  thoughts  full  of 
the  girl  and  what  she  had  told  him.  He  knew 
now  that  he  loved  her,  and  to  him  love  meant  ser- 
vice. What  could  he  do  to  make  her  life  bright 
even  if  he  could  not  win  her  affection  ?  There  was 
no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  what  was  the  trouble, 
the  distress  of  Julia's  life.  It  was  her  uncer- 
tainty, her  anxiety  about  Caryl.  Since  Caryl  was 
in  his  employ,  and  since  it  was  his  friend  who  had 

221 


222  The  Two  Sisters 

taken  her  out  to  luncheon  and  on  an  automobile 
ride  without  her  sister's  knowledge,  surely  it  was 
his — Kelley  Delaine's — duty  to  try  to  keep  any 
harm  from  coming  to  the  girl. 

It  was  well  enough  for  him  to  tell  Julia  that  he 
would  try  to  guard  her  sister  and  to  influence  her 
to  be  discreet  and  circumspect,  but  it  was  quite 
another  thing  for  him  to  win  Caryl's  confidence 
and  to  persuade  her  that  he  had  only  her  good  at 
heart.  She  was  such  a  vain  little  creature,  so  avid 
of  admiration,  so  headstrong,  that  he  felt  baffled 
when  he  tried  to  imagine  himself  arguing  with  her. 
Still,  he  had  given  his  word  and  meant  to  do  his 
best.  But  surely  it  would  be  wise  for  him  to  re- 
move temptation  from  her  path,  if  possible.  And 
in  this  case  temptation  meant  Harry  Somerdyke. 

Harry  Somerdyke,  as  the  only  son  of  a  rich 
man,  now  dead,  had  done  pretty  much  as  he 
pleased  since  childhood.  Delaine  had  known  him 
intimately  when  the  two  were  young  lads  together, 
but  for  the  past  five  years  Harry  had  been  out  of 
the  United  States — spending  much  of  his  time 
playing  at  engineering  in  Venezuela — and  the 
friends  had  seen  little  of  each  other.  In  their  few 
conversations  since  Somerdyke's  return  to  New 
York — where  he  expected  to  remain  for  only  a 
little  while — Delaine  felt  how  much  the  man  had 
changed  and  how  divergent  were  their  views  on 


Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  223 

many  subjects.  Yet  surely  he  had  still  at  heart 
some  of  the  good  old  principles  to  which  as 
young  men  they  had  both  subscribed,  and  through 
these  he  could  be  reached.  Harry  was  thought- 
less, self-indulgent,  and  full  of  fun,  but  he  was 
not  evil. 

Remembering  all  this,  Delaine  changed  his 
course,  and  instead  of  going  home  went  straight 
to  Somerdyke's  hotel.  Upon  inquiry  he  learned 
that  Harry  had  just  come  in  and  was  in  his  room, 
where  Kelley  was  conducted  after  he  had  an- 
nounced himself  on  the  house  telephone. 

"Hello,  old  man!"  Harry  greeted  him  cordi- 
ally. "What's  up?  I  saw  you  only  just  now,  and 
here  you  blow  in  an  hour  later.  Sit  down  and 
have  a  smoke  while  I  dress." 

"Thanks,  no,"  Delaine  replied.  "Go  on  dress- 
ing— don't  mind  me.  I  can  only  stay  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  I'm  due  at  my  apartment  to  dinner 
and  you  want  to  feed  also." 

"If  I  didn't  have  an  engagement  in  a  little  while 
I'd  insist  on  your  eating  here  with  me,"  said 
Harry.  "But  I'm  just  going  to  get  a  bite  and  then 
meet  Ben  Hadley,  who  is  in  town  for  a  few  days. 
We're  going  down  to  Coney  just  for  the  sail,  and 
we'll  have  supper  after  our  return.  By  the  way, 
I've  almost  persuaded  Ben  to  go  to  South  Amer- 
ica when  I  go  back.  There's  a  good  engineering 


224  The  Two  Sisters 

opening  there  for  him.  You  remember  Ben — 
don't  you?  He's  from  Baltimore,  you  know." 

"Sure !  I  knew  him  at  school  but  haven't  seen 
him  for  years." 

"Pretty  good  chap,"  commented  Harry,  "and 
first  rate  company." 

"Well,  I  won't  keep  you  from  him  long,"  said 
Delaine.  "To  come  to  the  point,  Harry,  I  want 
to  speak  to  you  about  my  little  stenographer.  No 
— don't  laugh,"  as  Somerdyke  grinned.  "She's 
of  no  consequence  to  me  except  that  she's  in  my 
employ.  But  she's  a  good  girl,  Harry,  and  young 
and  susceptible.  Don't  let  her  make  a  fool  of 
herself  over  you,  old  man.  She  probably  has 
never  had  a  man  pay  her  any  attention  before." 

Then,  so  gravely  that  Somerdyke  listened  with 
more  outward  seriousness  than  was  natural  to 
him,  Delaine  told  him  of  these  two  girls — how 
they  had  come  to  New  York  from  an  uncongenial 
home  to  earn  their  own  living,  that  they  were 
having  a  hard  time,  and  that  the  older  one  was 
trying  to  be  both  mother  and  sister  to  the  younger 
one. 

"Believe  me,  she's  got  her  hands  full  if  she  ex- 
pects to  keep  tab  on  that  giddy  little  creature," 
Somerdyke  commented.  "I  say,  Kel,  you  seem 
mightily  interested  in  that  same  solicitous  older 
sister." 


Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  225 

"I  am,"  Delaine  affirmed  calmly,  although  he 
hoped  that  Somerdyke  would  not  notice  that  his 
face  grew  a  shade  darker.  "I  am  interested  in  any 
good,  refined  woman  who  is  fighting  as  fairly  and 
honestly  as  she  is.  And  as  I  don't  want  to  see  her 
miserable  I'm  asking  you  not  to  make  a  fool  of 
her  sister.  For,  Harry,  you  know  you  don't  care 
a  rap  about  her  except  to  have  fun  with  her." 

Harry  Somerdyke  was  an  ease-loving  mortal 
with  no  very  strong  principles  of  any  kind.  De- 
laine was  right  when  he  said  that  he  cared  little 
for  Caryl  Marvin  except  to  amuse  himself  with 
her.  Yet,  if  she  threw  herself  at  his  head  the  fault 
was  not  his.  However,  as  he  had  not  seen  her  nor 
heard  from  her  since  their  parting  last  week,  she 
seemed  less  of  a  temptation  and  less  attractive 
than  when  he  was  with  her.  And  he  liked  Kelley 
and  was  willing  to  please  him  if  he  could  do  so 
without  inconvenience  to  himself. 

"All  right!"  he  agreed,  "I  promise  to  let  the 
girl  alone — that  is,  not  to  seek  her  out,  unless,  of 
course,  she  takes  the  initiative,  and  sends  for  me. 
Which  isn't  likely." 

"Not  at  all  likely,"  observed  Delaine  dryly. 
"She  and  her  sister  are  ladies,  you  know — not  ad- 
venturesses." 

Then,  dropping  the  subject  abruptly,  he  talked 


226  The  Two  Sisters 

of  the  horse  of  which  Somerdyke  had  told  him, 
saying  he  would  "look  him  over"  to-morrow. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  went  away,  almost  satis- 
fied with  his  interview,  leaving  Somerdyke  just 
time  to  gulp  down  a  sandwich  before  hurrying  off 
to  meet  Ben  Hadley  on  the  Coney  Island  boat. 

For  a  long  hour  after  their  return  from  Coney 
Island  Harry  Somerdyke  and  Hadley  sat  together 
in  the  grill  room  of  Somerdyke's  hotel,  wrapped 
in  a  haze  of  tobacco  smoke  and  talking  of  Vene- 
zuela and  iron  mines  over  ice-filled  glasses.  Be- 
fore the  pair  parted  Hadley  again  turned  the  con- 
versation to  the  subject  of  Caryl  Marvin. 

"Look  here,  Harry,"  he  said,  "do  I  or  do  I  not 
get  a  knockdown  to  that  very  classy  article  you 
claimed  to  know  on  the  boat  this  evening?  If  so, 
when?" 

Somerdyke  hesitated.  Then  he  sent  a  puff  of 
tobacco  smoke  whirling  toward  the  ceiling  and 
spoke. 

"I  don't  know,  Ben;  I  really  don't.  I'd  half 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  see  her  again.  Oh,  you 
needn't  grin  in  that  sardonic  way.  I'm  not  the 
kind  you  seem  to  think  I  am.  All  the  attraction 
that  child  has  she  carries  in  her  face.  I've  taken 
her  out  to  lunch  once  or  twice.  She  has  a  fine  com- 
plexion, pretty  eyes,  and  never  a  sign  of  intelli- 


Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  227 

gence.  Likewise  she  can  lie  faster  and  in  more 
ways  than  a  horse  can  kick.  After  the  first  hour 
or  so  she  bores  me.  Besides  that,  Kelley  Delaine 
— old  Puritan — has  been  reading  the  riot  act  to 
me  about  not  raising  expectations,  etc.,  in  the 
child's  silly  mind.  No,  on  second  thought,  Ben, 
I  guess  you  don't  get  that  introduction  after  all. 
I  won't  be  the  one  to  set  the  cat  on  the  canary. 
Of  course,  if  the  lady  should  insist  on  seeking  my 
acquaintance  in  spite  of  my  noble  resolutions, 
that's  another  matter !"  He  smiled  complacently. 
"If  by  any  chance  she  does  that  I'll  introduce 
you." 

"How  wonderful  is  this  sudden  reformation," 
Hadley  mused  aloud.  "At  times  you  sound  like  a 
hero  in  a  dime  thriller,  Harry.  I'll  bet  you're 
engaged  to  someone.  I  can  see  it  standing  out 
all  over  you." 

Somerdyke  laughed.  "Guess  again,  old  scout," 
he  replied.  "It  isn't  that,  Ben,  but  Kelley  Delaine 
is  a  good  friend  of  mine,  and  he  made  me  promise 
— for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  but  not  be- 
cause he  cares  about  the  girl — that  I  wouldn't 
turn  the  head  of  his  pretty  little  stenographer  any 
further.  I  told  him  that  I  would  leave  her  alone. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  began  paying  attention  to  her 
more  to  plague  Kelley  than  for  any  other  reason. 


228  The  Two  Sisters 

So  I'm  tired,  you  see — unless,  as  I  said  before,  the 
lady  makes  advances  on  her  own  hook." 

Later,  when  Hadley  had  taken  his  leave,  Som- 
erdyke  wandered  up  to  his  room.  On  his  table 
was  a  pile  of  letters.  Three  of  them  he  recog- 
nized as  bills.  The  fourth  was  in  an  unfamiliar, 
unformed  hand.  He  opened  this,  glanced  at  the 
signature,  then  smiled  cynically.  He  read  slowly 
the  note  upon  which  the  foolish  child  had  spent 
several  hours.  It  would  have  been  well  could  she 
have  seen  this  man's  face  as  he  perused  her  mes- 
sage. 

"Little  fool !"  he  muttered.  "  'A  matter  of  a 
personal  kind  concerning  me  that  moves  me  to 
think  I  had  better  have  a  talk  with  you  and  ask 
your  advice,'  "  he  repeated.  "That  'matter'  is, 
in  plain  language,  probably  something  that  will 
lead  to  a  bid  to  luncheon  or  some  other  fun.  Well, 
here's  where  I  give  Ben  his  much-desired  introduc- 
tion, at  any  rate.  Lord  knows  I  shan't  be  jeal- 
ous!" 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  at  a  framed  photograph 
that  stood  on  his  table.  It  was  the  picture  of  a 
sweet-faced  girl.  Caryl  would  have  recognized 
it  as  the  "little  peacock"  she  had  seen  with  Som- 
erdyke  at  the  Waldorf  a  few  mornings  ago. 

Before  he  slept  Somerdyke  called  up  Hadley. 

"Hello,  Ben!"  he  said.     "Not  in  bed  yet,  I 


Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  229 

see.  Glad  I  didn't  wake  you.  Say — if  you  want 
to  meet  that  girl  you  were  talking  about  this  even- 
ing, you  can  do  it  by  lunching  with  me  at  the  Astor 
at  one  to-morrow.  Meet  you  in  the  downtown 
entrance.  No — I  haven't  'reverted  to  type'  at  all* 
— but,  well,  circumstances  alter  cases,  you  know. 
To-morrow  at  one,  then,  old  man.  Pleasant 
dreams!" 

After  which  conversation  Harry  Somerdyke 
sat  down  before  his  table  and  gazed  long  at  the 
girlish  face  smiling  trustingly  at  him  from  its 
dainty  frame. 

******* 

The  insistent  jangle  of  her  alarm-clock  called 
Julia  from  her  bed  the  morning  after  the  trip  to 
Coney  Island.  Even  when  she  had  dressed  and 
had  eaten  her  breakfast,  she  was  still  drowsy 
from  lack  of  sufficient  sleep.  On  her  way  out  of 
the  house  she  met  Mrs.  Halloran  in  the  lower 
hall,  the  morning's  mail  in  her  hand. 

"There's  a  letter  here  for  your  sister,  dear," 
she  said,  as  Julia  bade  her  "good  morning."  "My, 
but  you  do  look  real  tired  for  so  early  in  the 
morning!" 

"I  didn't  get  to  bed  until  pretty  late,"  Julia 
answered,  smiling  kindly,  "and  for  some  reason 
I  lay  awake  for  an  hour  or  two  after  I  did  get 


230  The  Two  Sisters 

there  —  so  I  didn't  get  slept  out.  Will  you  leave 
the  letter  under  the  door  of  our  room  when  you 
go  up  again,  Mrs.  Halloran?  It's  probably  from 
my  sister's  employer." 

She  hastened  away  to  her  work,  and  in  the 
hurry  of  the  day  the  incident  slipped  from  her 
mind. 

At  half  past  eight  Caryl  awoke,  yawned,  and 
lay  thinking.  Suddenly  her  eyes  fell  on  the  white 
square  of  an  envelope  protruding  from  under  the 
door.  She  had  told  Somerdyke  to  address  her  in 
Delaine's  care,  so  she  arose  and  picked  up  the 
letter  without  a  thrill  of  anticipation.  But  her 
heart  beat  fast  when  she  saw  the  imprint  of  the 
hotel  where  Somerdyke  was  stopping.  Seated  on 
the  side  of  the  bed,  she  read  the  missive. 


DEAR  Miss  MARVIN:  Will  the  news  of 
deep  importance  with  which  you  wish  to  honor 
me,  and  the  advice  I  am  supposed  by  you  to  have 
the  wisdom  to  give,  admit  of  the  presence  of  a 
third  person  at  our  meeting?  If  so,  will  you  not 
lunch  with  me  at  one  to-morrow  —  it  will  be  'to- 
day' when  you  get  this  —  in  company  with  a  friend 
of  mine  who  has  fallen  a  victim  to  the  one  glimpse 
he  had  of  your  charming  self  in  a  public  place? 
"If  one  o'clock  will  suit  you,  and  you  do  not 


Delaine  Appeals  to  Somerdyke  231 

object  to  Mr.  Hadley's  presence,  I  shall  look  for 
you  just  inside  the  Forty-fourth  Street  entrance 
to  the  Astor  at  that  time. 

"Very  sincerely, 

"HENRY  W.  SOMERDYKE." 


XX 

BEN    HADLEY 

"GOOD  MORNING,  Miss  Marvin,"  said  Kelley 
Delaine,  as  his  stenographer  entered  his  study. 
"You  look  as  though  the  world  was  treating  you 
well." 

Caryl's  usually  delicate  coloring  was  brilliant 
to-day,  her  eyes  were  bright  and  her  heart  was 
beating  high  with  happiness.  In  her  little  hand- 
bag she  carried  Harry  Somerdyke's  letter,  and 
there  was  room  in  her  mind  for  nothing  else.  She 
was  to  see  him  again!  More  than  that,  she  was 
to  lunch  with  him  and  a  friend  of  his  who,  Harry 
said,  longed  to  meet  her.  In  her  vanity  she  had 
already  determined  to  discipline  Somerdyke  for 
his  recent  neglect,  and  she  meant  to  be  very,  very 
nice  to  his  friend.  She  would  show  her  former 
admirer  that  she  was  a  person  to  be  sought  after. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Delaine !"  she  responded 
blithely  as  she  laid  aside  her  hat.  She  had  dressed 
with  elaborate  care  this  morning.  "I  can't  help 
feeling  happy  on  a  beautiful  day  like  this." 

232 


Ben  Hadley  233 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  hadn't  observed  that 
it  was  particularly  inspiring  weather,"  the  author 
answered.  "I  thought  it  was  rather  warm  and 
muggy  for  this  time  of  the  year.  Now,  if  you're 
ready,  we'll  get  right  to  work.  I  won't  dictate  to 
you  to-day,  but  there  is  a  big  job  of  copying  for 
you  to  do  instead." 

He  handed  her  a  number  of  sheets  of  paper  as 
he  spoke,  and  Caryl's  spirits  fell  as  she  noted  how 
many  there  were.  Suppose  she  should  not  finish 
them  in  time  to  keep  her  i  o'clock  engagement! 

But  she  attacked  them  vigorously  and  kept 
steadily  at  them.  There  was  silence  in  the  room 
but  for  the  click  of  the  machine  and  an  occasional 
movement  from  the  desk  where  Delaine  sat.  At 
half  past  twelve  the  girl  paused  in  her  task  and 
counted  the  sheets  which  were  yet  to  be  copied. 
Then  she  looked  at  her  employer. 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  stop  for  a  little  while  now 
and  come  back  after  lunch  and  finish  these,  Mr. 
Delaine?"  she  ventured  timidly.  "I  didn't  eat 
much  breakfast  this  morning,  and  I  think  I  will 
work  better  after  I  have  had  my  luncheon." 

Delaine  glanced  up  from  his  writing.  "Of 
course!"  he  assented  genially.  "Come  back  and 
finish  the  copying  when  you  are  ready  to  do  so. 
I'm  beginning  to  feel  hungry  myself,  come  to  think 
of  it.  I'm  lunching  at  home  to-day,  and  if  you 


234  The  Two  Sisters 

think  you  could  stand  Wang's  weird  Oriental 
cooking,  Miss  Marvin,  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
you  share  it  with  me  this  noon." 

Caryl  flushed  with  embarrassment.  "Oh,  thank 
you,  but  I  really  don't  think  I'd  better  do  that," 
she  stammered.  "I  have  a  couple  of  errands  to 
attend  to."  Then,  as  a  sudden  idea  occurred  to 
her:  "My  sister  might  not  like  me  to  do  it,"  she 
added  primly. 

"She  is  quite  right,"  asserted  Delaine.  "I 
really  do  not  think  she  would  object  in  this  in- 
stance, but  you  must  do  as  you  think  best  about 
it.  Go  on  now  if  you  wish,  and  come  back  when- 
ever you  like." 

Caryl  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief  as  she  took 
the  elevator  to  the  street. 

"How  anyone  gets  along  who  tells  the  truth 

all  the  time  beats  me  I"  she  soliloquized. 

******* 

Somerdyke  was  awaiting  her  when  she  entered 
the  Hotel  Astor,  and  he  came  quickly  forward. 
With  him  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  whom 
the  girl  immediately  recognized  as  the  person  who 
had  caught  her  when  she  stumbled  on  the  gang- 
plank the  night  before. 

"It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come,  Miss  Mar- 
vin," Somerdyke  said,  with  impersonal  politeness. 
"May  I  introduce  my  friend,  Mr.  Hadley?  He 


Ben  Hadley  235 

saw  you  last  night  and  has  been  talking  of  noth- 
ing else  ever  since." 

The  big  man  laughed  and  bowed  low  over  her 
hand. 

"If  you  knew  what  a  lot  of  time  and  argument 
I  spent  in  getting  this  introduction,"  he  said 
suavely,  "you  would  be  very  kind  to  me  to-day, 
Miss  Marvin." 

"I  already  owe  you  something,"  Caryl  an- 
swered, with  a  happy  little  giggle,  "for  your  kind- 
ness to  me  last  night." 

"Not  kindness,"  he  corrected,  with  another  ex- 
aggerated bow.  "Call  it  my  privilege,  please." 

"Now,  Ben,"  Somerdyke  broke  in  impatiently, 
"if  you  have  finished  bowing  and  scraping  let's  go 
in  and  get  something  to  eat." 

Caryl's  eyes  glistened  triumphantly  as  the  trio 
moved  toward  the  dining-room.  Was  it  possible 
that  Somerdyke  was  actually  jealous  already?  It 
certainly  appeared  so. 

The  girl  enjoyed  the  luncheon  more  than  any 
other  experience  she  had  ever  had.  After  it  was 
over  she  could  scarcely  remember  what  she  had 
eaten.  Hadley  sat  close  beside  her,  talking  in- 
cessantly, and  she  paid  scant  attention  to  Somer- 
dyke's  efforts  to  join  in  the  conversation,  but  an- 
swered all  his  friend's  remarks  with  a  pert  flip- 


236  The  Two  Sisters 

pancy  that  she  fondly  imagined  was  clever.  The 
sight  of  Somerdyke  sitting  opposite  her,  moodily 
discussing  his  food  and  making  only  an  occasional 
remark,  filled  her  shallow  soul  with  exaltation. 
Yes,  he  was  surely  jealous  of  Hadley,  and,  with 
this  idea  in  her  mind,  she  tried  with  all  her  small 
power  to  pique  her  host  and  please  the  stranger. 

Before  either  Caryl  or  Hadley  had  finished 
their  sweets  and  coffee  Somerdyke  pushed  back  his 
chair  and  rose  rather  abruptly. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  please  excuse  me  for  run- 
ning away  so  soon,"  he  explained  as  he  handed 
the  check  and  a  bill  to  the  waiter.  "Take  your 
time,  you  two.  I  must  hurry  along  to  keep  an  en- 
gagement. It's  been  pleasant  to  give  Hadley  the 
privilege  of  knowing  you,  Miss  Marvin.  Good- 
bye. See  you  to-night,  Ben." 

"Heavens!"  he  remarked  to  himself  five  min- 
utes later  as  he  walked  up  Broadway — "and  I  fell 
for  her  myself  at  first.  Hadley  can  have  her!" 

Despite  the  pleadings  of  her  companion  that 
she  let  him  take  her  to  some  entertainment  of  any 
kind  she  might  wish,  Caryl  remained  firm  in  her 
determination  to  return  to  her  work.  "Not  to- 
day, Mr.  Hadley,"  she  said,  with  a  bewitching 
smile.  "Perhaps  some  other  time." 

The  pair  walked  together  to  the  building  in 


DESPITE  THE  PLEADINGS  OF  HER  COMPANION, 
CARYL  REMAINED  FIRM 


Ben  Hadley  237 

which  were  Delaine's  rooms.  At  the  entrance 
they  paused,  chatting  earnestly.  While  they  stood 
thus  a  man  came  out,  glanced  at  them  keenly,  and 
raised  his  hat  as  he  passed  them.  It  was  Kelley 
Delaine. 


XXI 

JULIA   IS   PROMOTED 

WHEN  Julia  Marvin  left  the  manager's  office  to 
return  to  her  position  at  the  lace  counter  the  big, 
inartistic  store  looked  almost  lovely  to  her.  Yet 
she  had  heretofore  often  come  near  hating  it. 
Now  it  was  a  different  place.  It  was  where  she 
had  put  her  best  efforts,  and  this  morning  she 
had  learned  for  the  first  time  that  these  efforts 
had  been  appreciated.  Next  Monday  she  was 
to  be  promoted  to  the  position  of  head  sales- 
woman of  the  lace  department,  with  the  prospect 
in  sight  of  a  further  advance. 

The  manager,  a  cool,  businesslike  young  man, 
had  been  most  kind  to  her  and  had  said  pleasant 
things  about  her  work,  adding  that  the  firm  recog- 
nized faithful  service.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
interview  he  had  seemed  rather  patronizing,  the 
girl  thought,  but  he  had  concluded  the  conversa- 
tion by  actually  asking  her  advice. 

"Miss  Marvin,"  he  said,  rather  abruptly,  just 
before  dismissing  her,  "it's  none  of  my  business 
to  wonder  why  a  person  of  your  ability  should 

238 


Julia  is  Promoted  239 

have  taken  such  a  position  as  you  began  with  here 
in  this  store.  For  you  have  ability,  as  you  must 
realize.  I  would  rather  like  to  ask  your  opinion 
concerning  our  lace  department — that  is,  what 
changes  you  would  make  if  you  were  running  it 
entirely  to  suit  yourself?" 

Julia  flushed  at  the  spoken  and  implied  com- 
pliment, but  she  answered  frankly  and  directly. 
"There  are  several  changes  that  I  would  make, 
since  you  ask  me,"  she  said,  "although  I  would 
never  have  thought  of  suggesting  them  otherwise. 
In  the  first  place,  Baird  handles  an  unusually  fine 
assortment  of  lace,  and  there  ought  to  be  better 
facilities  for  displaying  it — more  forms,  cases, 
etc.  Then  it  seems  to  me  that  it  ought  to  be  fea- 
tured more  in  the  advertisements.  But,  of 
course,"  she  added,  blushing  still  more,  "that  is 
only  my  individual  opinion,  and  may  be  worth- 
less." 

"Your  opinion  was  what  I  asked  for,"  the  man- 
ager assured  her.  "Go  on,  please.  What  else?" 

"Well,  there's  another  thing  I've  noticed,"  the 
girl  continued,  with  returning  confidence.  "I 
don't  think  this  store  chooses  the  most  effective 
kind  of  advertising.  I  have  noticed  other  'ads/ 
and  I  believe  we'd  get  more  custom  if  the  notices 
of  sales  in  this  place  were  made  interesting,  and 
less  like  mere  business  announcements.  Of  course, 


240  The  Two  Sisters 

the  Baird  method  is  the  old,  dignified  one,  but  do 
you  think  it  really  compares  well  with  the  way  in 
which  other  places  call  attention  to  their  special- 
ties ?  Of  course,  I  know  very  little  about  the  ma- 
chinery of  advertising,  but  I  have  watched  to 
see  what  people  read  in  the  newspapers  on  the 
cars  and  in  other  public  places.  The  thing  that 
attracts  their  attention  quickly  is  always  read 
first." 

The  manager  looked  at  her  gravely  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  he  smiled  kindly. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Marvin.  Perhaps  you  are 
right.  I  might  add  that  what  you  have  said  to 
me  is  just  what  I  have  been  trying  to  drive  home 
ever  since  I  took  charge  of  this  work.  It  is  pleas- 
ant to  see  that  someone  else  who  observes  in- 
dorses my  views.  It  is  rather  strange,  however, 
that  you  should  take  so  much  interest  in  the  store. 
It  isn't  the  usual  attitude  of  saleswomen,  espe- 
cially of  those  who  have  been  here  as  short  a 
time  as  you  have  been  with  us." 

"It  ought  to  be  the  attitude  of  every  sales- 
woman," Julia  insisted  warmly.  "I  consider  that 
a  part  of  my  work.  Since  I  am  getting  my  living 
by  this  place,  I  think  I  ought  to  put  the  best  I 
have  into  it.  Is  that  all?  Good  morning,  then, 
and  thank  you." 


Julia  is  Promoted  241 

The  manager  watched  her  as  she  left  the  office. 
"That  young  woman's  going  up  pretty  fast,  if  I'm 
any  prophet,"  he  muttered.  "We've  never  had 
anything  like  her  here  before.  She  has  all  the 
elements  of  success — brains,  common  sense,  the 
gift  of  observation,  perseverance  and  grit.  Yes, 
she'll  win  out,  no  matter  where  she  locates!" 

The  day  had  dawned  clear  and  warm,  but  by 
three  o'clock  the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily  and 
continued  through  the  entire  afternoon,  with  an 
occasional  lifting  of  the  clouds  that  made  those 
not  versed  in  the  signs  of  the  weather  declare 
that  it  was  going  to  "clear  off."  When  the  hour 
for  closing  came  the  rain  was  increasing.  Julia, 
with  a  dozen  other  girls,  stood  for  a  few  minutes 
in  the  vestibule  of  the  employes'  entrance  watch- 
ing the  dimpling  sidewalk  and  waiting  for  a  lull 
in  the  storm,  that  she  might  run  to  a  car.  At 
last,  noting  by  the  gathering  dusk  that  the  down- 
pour was  to  continue  all  night,  she  buttoned  her 
jacket  closely  about  her  and  pushed  through  the 
swinging  doors  out  into  the  driving  rain. 

She  had  taken  only  a  few  steps  when  a  tall 
figure  in  a  long  raincoat  and  dark  golf-cap  stepped 
in  front  of  her,  and,  without  any  parley,  hurried 
her  into  a  waiting  taxicab.  Then  Kelley  De- 
laine, smiling  happily,  gave  the  chauffeur  his  hur- 


242  The  Two  Sisters 

ried  directions,  stepped  into  the  cab  and  seated 
himself  beside  her. 

"Here  we  are  I"  he  proclaimed  boyishly.  "It's 
a  wild  night  for  us  poor  sailors — isn't  it?" 

"Mr.  Delaine !"  exclaimed  Julia,  trying  to  look 
severe  in  spite  of  her  inclination  to  smile,  "you 
should  not  have  done  this!" 

"But  I  didn't,"  he  corrected  her.  "It  was  a 
kind  Providence  who  sent  the  rain,  and,  since 
that  matter  was  not  in  my  hands,  I  had  to  do  the 
best  I  could  to  keep  you  from  getting  wet." 

"But  I  shouldn't  let  you  do  things  of  this  kind 
for  me,"  Julia  objected. 

"You  didn't  let  me,"  Delaine  remarked.  "I 
have  kidnapped  you.  And  I  have  every  right 
to  do  it,  too,  Miss  Marvin,"  he  said,  suddenly 
serious.  "If  I'm  to  be  your  friend,  it's  my  privi- 
lege to  help  you  in  any  way  I  can.  Please  let's 
close  the  ledger  of  favors  received  and  given.  I 
knew  that  you  must  have  come  off  this  morning 
without  an  umbrella — for  it  was  clear  then.  Yes- 
terday you  told  me  you  knew  I  was  your  friend. 
If  you  believe  that  still,  you  must  see  that  taking 
you  to  your  home  and  keeping  you  as  dry  as  pos- 
sible is  the  least  I  can  do.  You  would  have  been 
soaked  if  you  had  walked  to  a  car.  There  is 
nothing  much  wetter  than  rain." 


Julia  is  Promoted  243 

Sudden  drops  that  were  not  from  the  rain  gath- 
ered in  Julia's  eyes. 

"It  was  very  good  of  you  to  think  about  me 
and  go  to  all  this  trouble  for  me,"  she  said  softly. 

"That's  what  friends  are  for,"  observed  Kel- 
ley  Delaine. 

He  greeted  Caryl  with  his  usual  politeness  when 
she  appeared  at  his  rooms  the  following  morning. 
The  girl  knew  him  too  well  now  to  fear  that  he 
would  refer  by  word  or  look  to  their  encounter  at 
the  studio  entrance.  He  had  passed  her  and  her 
companion  then  with  no  sign  of  recognition  except 
his  lifted  hat.  Now  his  manner  gave  her  no  rea- 
son to  fancy  that  he  appreciated  that  she  had  lied 
to  him  yesterday  noon.  Yet  in  the  bottom  of  her 
soul  she  knew  that  he  knew,  and  the  thought  made 
her  feel  insignificant  and  childishly  embarrassed. 

"I  shall  be  ready  for  you  in  a  moment  or  two," 
he  said.  "In  the  meantime,  here  is  a  letter  that 
someone  has  sent  to  you  in  my  care." 

He  handed  her  the  letter,  and  Caryl  felt  her 
face  burning  under  his  brief  glance.  She  slipped 
the  epistle  unopened  into  her  handbag.  Intui- 
tion told  her  that  it  was  from  Hadley,  and  she 
did  not  care  to  read  it  in  the  presence  of  this  man 
whom  she  was  beginning  to  hate  with  the  an- 
tagonism of  a  weak  nature  for  a  dominant  one. 


244  The  Two  Sisters 

"I  shall  not  keep  you  past  your  lunch  hour  to- 
day," Delaine  remarked  when  he  had  finished 
sorting  out  some  papers  on  his  desk.  "I  want 
you  to  take  down  a  little  dictation  this  morning 
and  transcribe  it,  and  that  will  be  all.  I  was 
sorry  you  had  to  come  back  here  and  finish  yes- 
terday. You  must  have  gotten  wet  on  the  way 
home." 

"I  did,"  answered  Caryl.  "I  was  soaked."  She 
hesitated.  "Julia  reached  home  quite  dry, 
though,"  she  added  vindictively. 

"Indeed,"  commented  Delaine  with  no  show 
of  concern  or  interest.  "She  was  fortunate." 

Caryl  bit  her  lips  with  anger  as  she  bent  over 
her  notebook.  She  had  a  suspicion  that  Delaine 
had  brought  her  sister  home,  but  she  could  not 
make  him  betray  this  fact.  She  had  asked  Julia 
few  questions,  contenting  herself  with  an  expres- 
sion of  astonishment  at  the  dry  condition  of  her 
clothing  when  she  reached  her  room,  but  her 
sister  had  offered  no  explanation. 

When  the  dictation  was  finished  the  girl  laid 
down  her  pad  with  an  affected  laugh. 

"I  think  I  know  the  lady  you  have  been  de- 
scribing, Mr.  Delaine,"  she  said,  a  ring  of  spite- 
ful triumph  in  her  voice.  She  was  too  angry  to 
be  discreet.  "It's  my  sister  Julia." 

She  had  the  short  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 


Julia  is  Promoted  245 

man  startled  for  an  instant  out  of  his  calm  air  of 
indifference,  but  when  he  spoke  it  was  in  his  usual 
courteous,  unemotional  voice. 

"It  would  probably  fit  any  one  of  a  thousand 
other  women  as  perfectly  as  it  does  your  sister," 
he  replied.  "There  are  only  three  or  four  types 
of  women  and  they  all  look  about  alike  in  print." 

He  lit  a  cigarette  and  turned  again  to  his  desk. 
Caryl  began  her  copying  with  the  humiliated  and 
chagrined  sensation  of  one  who  has  been  snubbed. 

When  her  task  was  finished  she  spoke  again. 
"Is  there  anything  else  you  wish  me  to  do  now, 
Mr.  Delaine?"  she  asked  formally,  not  raising 
her  eyes  from  her  machine. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  the  man  answered,  turn- 
ing around  from  his  desk  and  facing  her.  "Ex- 
cept, Miss  Marvin,"  he  went  on  hesitatingly,  "I 
would  be  glad  if  you  would  try  to  be  a  little  more 
careful  with  your  typing.  The  last  copy  you  did 
for  me  is  not  as  well  done  as  were  some  others 
I  have  had  from  you." 

Caryl  flushed  crimson  with  embarrassment  and 
vexation.  "If  my  work  isn't  satisfactory,"  she 
began  haughtily.  But  her  employer  interrupted 
her  with  a  tolerant  smile. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  I  But  you  see,  maybe  I 
couldn't  get  another  stenographer  who  would  suit 


246  The  Two  Sisters 

me  any  better  than  you  do.  That  is  what  you 
were  going  to  say — isn't  it?" 

Then,  as  she  did  not  reply,  he  continued. 
"Don't  look  angry  about  it,  Miss  Marvin.  We 
all  get  careless  at  times,  and  most  of  us  have  to 
be  willing  to  take  suggestions  with  regard  to  our 
work — even,"  with  a  half  smile  and  shrug — 
"people  who  write  or  scribble — whichever  you 
choose  to  call  it.  I  wish,"  he  added  with  more 
feeling  in  his  tone  than  she  had  heard  there  be- 
fore, "that  you  wouldn't  look  upon  me  as  your 
natural  enemy.  I'm  really  a  very  harmless,  well- 
meaning  person,  and  I  would  be  glad  to  help  you 
in  any  way  within  my  power.  Just  because  you 
are  doing  work  for  me  doesn't  mean  that  we  can- 
not be  on  pleasant  terms,  you  know." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Delaine,"  Caryl 
answered  stiffly,  still  smarting  under  his  mild  re- 
buke. She  did  not  glance  in  his  direction  as  she 
arose,  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket,  and,  picking  up 
her  gloves,  started  to  the  door.  "I  wish  you  a 
very  good  morning,"  she  then  said,  and,  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reply,  left  the  room  with  a  bear- 
ing that  she  tried  to  make  haughty.  If  she  could 
have  seen  the  humorous  gleam  in  Delaine's  eyes 
as  he  watched  her  exit  she  would  have  added 
another  to  the  long  list  of  imaginary  grudges 
which  she  cherished  against  her  employer. 


Julia  is  Promoted  247 

Once  outside  the  studio  building,  Caryl  Marvin 
paused,  looked  about  her,  then  drawing  her  letter 
eagerly  from  her  handbag,  opened  it  with  un- 
steady fingers  and  read  it.  It  was,  as  she  had  sus- 
pected and  hoped,  from  Hadley. 

"Fair  Charmer,"  the  letter  ran.  "Won't  you 
let  me  see  you  this  evening?  If  the  prospect  of 
a  dinner,  and  a  theater,  and — (if  you  will  con- 
sent to  it) — a  supper  afterwards,  presents  itself 
favorably  to  you,  consider  them  all  yours  for  the 
acceptance. 

"I  leave  town  very  soon,  and  it  is  painful  to 
remember  this  now  that  I  have  at  last  met  you. 
Please  be  as  kind  as  you  are  pretty  and  go  with 
me  this  evening.  I  want  to  see  you  very  often 
in  the  few  days  remaining  to  me  in  this  city. 

"You  will  note  my  telephone  number  at  the 
head  of  this  sheet.  Ring  me  up  at  any  time  be- 
fore 2  o'clock  this  afternoon  and  tell  me  the  glad 
news  that  you  will  be  a  good  little  sport  and  make 
me  happy  by  going  with  me  this  evening.  I'll 
show  you  the  sights  of  our  great  city !  Ever  yours, 

"B.  L.  HADLEY." 

Caryl  walked  down  Broadway  with  the  letter 
she  had  just  read  clasped  tightly  in  her  hand.  On 
her  forehead  was  a  slight  pucker  of  perplexity, 
and  her  brain  swam  with  wild,  yet  sweet  ideas  of 


248  The  Two  Sisters 

rebellion,  mingled  with  sterner  and  less  pleasant 
thoughts  of  duty. 

Hadley  had  written  her  asking  her  to  dine 
with  him  that  night.  She  wanted  to  go,  yet  her 
intuition  told  her  that  Julia  would  not  consent 
to  it.  If  she  went  without  her  sister's  knowledge 
she  would  have  to  creep  home  late  in  the  evening 
like  a  guilty  thing,  and  there  would  undoubtedly 
be  another  row.  Of  course,  it  would  worry  Julia 
if  she — Caryl — accepted  Hadley's  invitation. 
This  thought  was  the  last  one  to  come  to  the  girl's 
mind,  and  did  not  remain  there  long. 

"No,"  she  mused,  as  she  walked  on  unheed- 
ingly,  "I  don't  see  how  I  can  go.  I  can't  accept  a 
bid  for  any  evening  affair  without  Julia's  knowing 
it.  I'll  just  have  to  telephone  to  him  and  say 
'no.'  Oh if  I  weren't  a  coward  I'd  go  any- 
way!" 

She  was  so  immersed  in  her  own  affairs  that 
she  did  not  notice  a  couple  approaching  her — 
a  man  and  a  sweet-faced  girl,  talking  together 
earnestly.  With  her  head  in  a  maze  of  longings 
and  regrets  Caryl  continued  on  her  way  until  al- 
most abreast  of  the  pair;  then  she  stopped  short 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and,  at  the  sound, 
the  man  and  his  companion  paused  instinctively. 
Caryl  recognized  at  a  glance  the  girl  whom  she 
had  recently  seen  with  Harry  Somerdyke  in  the 


Julia  is  Promoted  249 

Waldorf.  A  happy  smile  lighted  the  little  stenog- 
rapher's face.  She  was  sure  that  Somerdyke 
would  now  introduce  her  to  his  aristocratic  com- 
panion. With  her  self-congratulation  was  min- 
gled no  doubt  lest  she  might  not  be  able  to  meet 
this  other  woman  on  grounds  of  perfect  equality 
of  breeding  and  intellect. 

"Oh — good  morning!"  she  exclaimed  eagerly. 

Harry  Somerdyke  looked  annoyed.  "Good 
morning,"  he  muttered  coldly.  He  raised  his  hat 
silently,  then,  touching  his  companion's  arm  as 
she  hesitated,  he  walked  on  with  her.  Caryl 
looked  after  him,  the  smile  of  anticipation  dying 
from  her  face.  Presently  she  spoke  softly,  slowly 
and  incredulously. 

"He  cut  me !"  she  said.  "He  cut  me  dead. 
He  was  ashamed  to  have  her  think  he  knew  me." 
Then  she  remembered  that  the  girl  had  been  smil- 
ing when  they  met,  and  her  imagination  turned 
what  had  been  innocent  amusement  at  some  re- 
mark the  man-  had  been  making  into  a  sneer  at 
herself  and  her  cheap  costume. 

"She's  a  hateful,  proud  thing!"  she  muttered. 
"And  so  is  he.  I  hate  him!" 

She  clenched  in  her  hand  the  letter  she  was 
carrying  and  the  noise  of  crackling  paper  started 
a  new  train  of  thought.  Carefully  she  opened 
the  crumpled  sheet  and  re-read  Ben  Hadley's  flip- 


250  The  Two  Sisters 

pant  invitation  for  the  evening.  When  she  had 
finished  the  perusal  her  decision  was  made. 

"I'm  going  to-night!"  she  declared  vindictively. 
"I'll  show  Harry  Somerdyke  that  there  are  just 
as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  have  ever  been  caught. 
If  he  doesn't  think  enough  of  me  to  speak  to  me 
on  the  street  when  he's  with  another  girl  I  know 
someone  who  does.  Thank  goodness  there's  one 
man  who  appreciates  me  and  doesn't  treat  me  in- 
differently just  because  I'm  poor!  I  don't  care 
whether  Judy  likes  it  or  not — I'm  going  to-night 
and  that's  all  there  is  about  it.  My  mind  is  made 
up  at  last!" 

With  reckless  thoughts  surging  within  her,  she 
stepped  into  a  drug  store  and  called  up  the  num- 
ber Hadley  had  given  her  in  his  note. 

"Yes,"  replied  a  voice  at  the  other  end  of 
the  wire.  "This  is  Mr.  Hadley.  What  is  it? 
Oh,  yes,  Miss  Marvin!  What's  the  good  word?" 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  go  with  you  this  eve- 
ning, Mr.  Hadley,"  announced  Caryl  tremulously. 

"That  sounds  mighty  good  to  me,"  the  man 
said.  "When  and  how  shall  I  meet  you?  Like- 
wise where  shall  we  go?" 

"Why,"  stammered  the  girl,  "I  think  I'll  leave 
that  to  you — where  we  shall  go,  I  mean.  As  for 
meeting  me,"  she  hesitated  for  a  second,  thinking 
rapidly.  It  would  be  just  and  fitting  to  meet  this 


Julia  is  Promoted  251 

man  in  the  very  same  hotel  in  which  Harry  Som- 
erdyke  had  flouted  her  the  other  day,  when  he 
had  another  girl  with  him.  "I'll  be  right  inside 
of  the  downtown  entrance  to  the  Waldorf  at 
whatever  time  you  say,"  she  suggested. 

"But  why  not  let  me  call  for  you  at  your 
house?"  Hadley  protested.  "I  don't  like  you  to 
come  all  that  way  by  yourself." 

"It  isn't  such  a  long  way,"  Caryl  affirmed 
quickly,  "and  I  would  rather  meet  you  there." 

"Your  humble  servant  obeys  your  slightest 
wish,"  Hadley  rejoined.  "Let  it  be  the  Waldorf, 
then,  at  6 130,  if  that  suits  you.  You  are  many 
sweet  things  for  consenting  to  go  with  me,  but  I 
would  rather  tell  you  of  them  face  to  face.  May 
I  when  I  see  you?" 

"You  aren't  dumb,  are  you,  Mr.  Hadley?" 
parried  Caryl,  and  smiled  as  she  heard  his  laugh. 

"I  shall  count  the  minutes  until  half  past  six," 
he  told  her.  "Until  then,  good-by!" 

The  girl's  face  was  flushed  when  she  reached 
the  street,  nor  did  her  color  fade  as  she  walked 
downtown.  Elation,  gratified  vanity  and  antici- 
patory pleasure  made  her  heart  beat  fast.  What- 
ever misgivings  she  might  have  had  were  quickly 
subdued  by  thoughts  of  what  the  evening  held 
in  store  for  her.  She  was  too  much  excited  to 
think  of  eating,  but,  stopping  at  a  confectioner's, 


252  The  Two  Sisters 

drank  a  glass  of  iced  milk.  Then  she  started 
toward  home  to  set  about  the  serious  problem 
of  getting  dressed  for  dinner. 

But  suddenly  she  paused.  What  had  she  that 
was  fit  to  wear?  She  remembered  with  a  throb 
of  joy  that  she  had  in  her  purse  a  large  part  of 
her  week's  salary.  Some  of  it  was  to  go  for  room 
rent,  but  Julia  could  pay  that  and  Caryl  would 
settle  for  her  share  next  week.  Her  resolutions 
were  quickly  made,  and  she  turned  her  steps 
toward  a  department  store.  When  she  emerged 
from  this  fifteen  minutes  later  she  carried  a  par- 
cel containing  a  flimsy,  low-necked  pink  silk  waist, 
elaborately  trimmed  with  rather  coarse  lace,  and 
a  little  black  net  hat,  "just  the  thing  for  evening 
wear,"  the  saleswoman  had  told  her.  It  had 
been,  this  saleswoman  affirmed,  a  high-priced  hat, 
but  was  "marked  down"  at  the  close  of  the  sea- 
son. 

"But,  although  it  was  made  for  the  summer 
trade,  it  is  a  perfect  dress  hat  and  will  do  for 
weeks  to  come,"  said  the  woman.  And  Caryl, 
thinking  of  the  effect  she  would  produce  in  this 
same  hat,  smiled  and  almost  forgot  Somerdyke's 
rebuff. 


XXII 

A   GAY   EVENING 

AFTER  purchasing  her  pink  waist  and  "evening 
hat,"  Caryl  walked  homeward  thoughtfully,  her 
mind  filled  with  the  problem  of  explaining  to  Ju- 
lia her  absence  for  the  evening.  When  she  reached 
her  room  she  deposited  her  parcel  on  the  bed, 
and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute.  Then,  turn- 
ing abruptly,  she  went  downstairs  and  out-of- 
doors  again.  She  would  get  a  disagreeable  thing 
over  at  once  so  that  she  could  enjoy  her  evening. 
She  must  put  matters  so  that  there  should  be  no 
quarrel  to-night  or  after  any  future  meetings  with 
Hadley,  if,  as  she  hoped,  he  should  ask  for  future 
meetings.  She  would  go  to  Baird's  now  and  tell 
Julia  something  that  would  sound  plausible. 

By  the  time  she  reached  Baird's  she  had  de- 
cided upon  that  "something."  She  told  herself 
that  she  was  sorry  to  have  to  be  a  little  untruthful, 
but  if  her  sister  was  so  exacting  she  could  not 
expect  anyone  to  be  entirely  frank  with  her. 
Moreover,  was  it  not  the  duty  of  the  younger  girl 

253 


254  The  Two  Sisters 

to  prevent  the  older  one  from  worrying?  Was 
it  not  better  to  make  Julia  comfortable  in  her 
mind  than  to  have  her  anxious  and  unhappy? 
Caryl  Marvin's  sophistry  worked  so  well  upon 
her  conscience  that  she  actually  felt  a  glow  of 
self-righteousness  at  the  idea  of  sacrificing  her 
own  ideas  of  truth  to  keep  her  sister  calm  and 
care-free. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  lace-counter  Julia 
was  out  at  luncheon. 

"She'll  be  back  soon,  for  she  never  stays  long," 
Laura  McDonough  informed  her.  "I  think  it's 
foolish  not  to  take  every  inch  of  time  that's  al- 
lowed you.  But  your  sister  don't  look  at  it  that 
way." 

"I  know,"  agreed  Caryl.  "It's  a  pity  she 
takes  things  so  seriously." 

"It  sure  is!"  affirmed  Minnie  Maibrunn,  who 
had  drawn  near  during  the  conversation,  "for 
she's  so  pretty  she  might  have  lots  of  fun.  There 
was  a  swell-looking  guy  that  came  here  to  talk 
to  her,  but  I  declare  she  looked  as  if  she  wished 
he  was  out  of  the  way.  I  knew  by  the  cut  of  his 
jib  that  he  was  some  class.  She  looked  peeved 
when  I  asked  her  about  him,  so  I  let  the  matter 
drop.  But," — with  a  knowing  wink — "I  noticed 
all  right  that  when  she  started  to  walk  home  in 
that  rain  he  was  waitin'  with  a  cab  for  her." 


A  Gay  Evening  255 

Caryl  controlled  the  intense  interest  that  she 
felt  at  these  revelations,  and  spoke  indifferently. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "I  was  glad  he  brought  her 
home,  for  if  he  hadn't  she  would  have  got  soaked 
— as  I  did,  by  the  way.  But  are  you  sure  that  the 
man  who  was  talking  to  her  here  at  the  counter 
was  the  same  one  that  took  her  home?" 

"Sure  I  am!"  averred  Minnie.  "He's  rather 
tall." 

Caryl  recalled  with  some  amusement  that  as 
Delaine,  Somerdyke  and  Hadley  were  all  tall, 
this  description  did  not  distinguish  one  from  the 
other.  But  she  knew  without  further  questioning 
who  Julia's  cavalier  had  been.  The  knowledge 
determined  her  as  to  her  own  course. 

Julia's  appearance  at  this  juncture  interrupted 
the  conversation,  and,  with  a  nod  of  good-by  to 
the  two  salesgirls,  Caryl  drew  her  sister  to  one 
end  of  the  counter. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  for  a  minute,  Judy," 
she  said  quickly.  "I  have  accepted  an  invita- 
tion for  dinner  and  the  theater  to-night,  and,  as 
I  will  be  gone  when  you  get  home,  I  came  all 
the  way  down  here  to  explain  the  matter  to  you." 

"Going  to  dinner  and  the  theater!"  exclaimed 
Julia.  "Not — not — with  that  Mr.  Somerdyke — 
are  you,  dear?" 


256  The  Two  Sisters 

Caryl  tossed  her  head.  "Indeed  nol"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I'm  done  with  him!" 

"I  am  glad,"  said  her  sister.  "I  might  have 
known  you  would  do  the  right  thing.  But" — 
looking  anxious — "who  is  the  person  with  whom 
you  are  going?" 

Caryl  had  her  story  all  ready,  but  she  pre- 
faced it  with  a  little  sigh. 

"I  wish  you  would  try  to  trust  me,  Judy,"  she 
regretted.  "Haven't  I  proved  to  you  that  I  know 
when  a  man  is  not  just  the  right  kind?  But,  as 
you  won't  trust  me,  I  will  assure  you  that  I  am 
to  be  in  good  hands  this  evening  and  that  I  will 
get  back  safe  and  sound  after  the  theater — un- 
less my  friends  want  to  take  me  to  supper  after- 
wards. Then  I  will,  of  course,  be  later  in  getting 


in." 


"Your  friends?"  Julia  questioned.  "What 
friends?" 

Again  Caryl  sighed  with  elaborate  patience. 
"Well,  there's  a  very  nice  gentleman  that  I  met 
through  one  of  Mr.  Delaine's  callers — a  person 
anybody  could  trust — and  he  and  his  sister  are 
going  to  the  theater  together  to-night." 

Julia  smiled  with  relief.  "His  sister  too !"  she 
said.  "And  they  have  asked  you  to  go  with 
them?  How  nice!  Always  supposing," — hesi- 


A  Gay  Evening  257 

tatingly — "that  the  sister  is  a  refined  person — as 
I  suppose  she  is — isn't  she?" 

Caryl  flushed  with  annoyance.  "I  should 
hardly  suppose,"  she  reminded  her,  "that  any  of 
Mr.  Delaine's  friends  would  introduce  me  to  men 
whose  sisters  were  not  refined  and  nice!"  Then, 
as  this  argument  did  not  seem  to  move  Julia  to  a 
reply,  the  younger  girl  played  her  last  card. 

"Really,  Judy,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "if 
Mr.  Delaine  is  the  kind  of  person  you  would  re- 
ceive flowers  from,  and  that  you  would  make  ap- 
pointments with  at  your  place  of  business,  and 
that  you  would  ride  alone  with  in  cabs — if,  I 
say,  he  is  the  kind  that  you  can  be  seen  with  until 
people  talk  about  it — I  should  think  you  would 
believe  that  anyone  I  would  meet  through  a  friend 
of  his  must  be  respectable!  Don't  you  think  so 
now  yourself?" 

Julia  Marvin's  face  was  suffused  with  a  sudden 
wave  of  color  which,  retreating,  left  her  very 
pale.  She  started  to  speak,  but  Caryl  interrupted 
her  by  a  light  laugh. 

"That's  all  right,  Judy,  dear!"  she  exclaimed, 
patting  her  sister's  cheek  playfully.  "No  expla- 
nations are  necessary.  We  all  do  that  kind  of 
thing,  you  see — that  is,  all  of  us  who  get  the 
chance!  So  long!  Don't  lie  awake  for  me — but 
go  to  bed  and  get  your  beauty-sleep — for  you 


258  The  Two  Sisters 

are  pale  to-day.   I'll  be  in  somewhere  around  mid- 
night!" 

And,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  and  another  gay 
laugh,  Caryl  Marvin  hurried  away. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  Hadley  exclaimed  admiringly  as 
he  took  Caryl's  hand  in  greeting.  "You  look  as 
sweet  as  a  peach  this  evening.  Don't  you  know 
you  do?" 

"I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  the  girl  replied  co- 
quettishly. 

Her  eyes  dwelt  approvingly  on  his  well-built 
figure  in  correct  evening  attire.  Any  coarseness 
which  his  face  might  have  betrayed  to  the  keen 
observer  was  not  perceived  by  his  companion. 
The  stern  simplicity  of  full  dress  was  becoming 
to  him,  and  Caryl  thought  him  handsome  and 
distinguished  in  appearance  as  he  smiled  down  at 
her. 

"Well,"  said  Hadley,  "the  first  thing  for  us 
to  do  is  to  decide  where  we'll  go  to  dinner.  Have 
you  any  particular  preference?" 

"None,"  said  Caryl.  "I'd  rather  leave  that  to 
you." 

"Suppose  we  go  to  Livingstone's,  then,"  the 
man  suggested.  "They  have  a  corking  good  caba- 
ret there,  and  I  certainly  do  like  music  with  my 


A  Gay  Evening  259 

meals.     Does  that  suit  you?    All  right,  then,"  as 
Caryl  nodded,  "come  along  with  me." 

He  took  her  arm  and  guided  her  through  the 
hotel  lobby  to  the  street. 

Livingstone's  Restaurant  was  gay  with  the 
glaring  over-decoration  that  passes  for  elegance 
under  the  electric  lights  of  Broadway.  Women, 
gowned  in  the  ultra-stylish  mode,  chatted  stri- 
dently with  heavy-faced  men  seated  opposite  them 
at  the  small  tables,  while  waiters  hurried  silently 
to  and  fro  over  the  heavy  carpet.  At  one  end 
of  the  room  a  hectic  pianist  and  a  sallow,  shock- 
haired  violinist  were  attacking  the  accompani- 
ment to  the  latest  ragtime  atrocity  which  a  rouged 
woman  sang  shriekingly  in  a  high,  piercing  voice 
as  she  pirouetted  up  and  down  the  aisles  formed 
by  the  rows  of  tables.  To  Caryl's  susceptible 
senses  it  seemed  like  a  glimpse  of  a  hitherto  un- 
known world. 

"It's  wonderful!"  she  said  ecstatically  after  an 
unctuous  head-waiter  had  conducted  them  to  a 
small  table  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  "This 
is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  been  in  a  place  of 
this  sort." 

"I  like  it,"  her  companion  agreed.  "Some 
people  don't  fancy  the  glitter  and  music,  but  I'm 
strong  for  them.  Somerdyke  loathes  cabarets.  I 
can't  drag  him  into  one." 


260  The  Two  Sisters 

The  smile  faded  for  a  moment  from  Caryl's 
lips  at  the  mention  of  Somerdyke's  name,  and, 
recollecting  anew  her  grievance,  she  determined 
to  be  more  than  usually  agreeable  to  her  present 
escort. 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  giving  me 
all  this  pleasure,  Mr.  Hadley,"  she  said  archly. 
"I  have  so  little  amusement!" 

"The  kindness  is  all  on  your  side,"  replied  the 
man.  "I  was  rather  afraid  to  ask  you  at  first, 
but  I  let  my  desire  get  the  best  of  my  timidity. 
You  certainly  got  my  number  the  first  time  I  ever 
saw  you,  girlie." 

"I'm  afraid  that's  what  you  tell  every  girl  you 
know,  Mr.  Hadley,"  Caryl  protested. 

"Indeed  it  isn't!"  he  denied  warmly,  leaning 
across  the  table  toward  her.  "You're  different 
from  all  the  rest,  Miss  Marvin.  You  appeal  to 
me  as  no  other  girl  I  have  ever  met  has  done. 
That's  the  simple  truth  of  the  matter." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hadley!"  stammered  Caryl,  startled 
into  forgetfulness  of  the  part  she  was  assuming. 
The  apparent  earnestness  of  his  manner  had  dis- 
concerted her  for  the  moment.  "I'm  sure  you 
don't  mean  that." 

"Please  call  me  Ben,"  he  begged.  "I  know 
this  request  seems  rather  sudden,  and  all  that," 
he  went  on,  noting  with  satisfaction  how  the  rich 


A  Gay  Evening  261 

color  pulsed  in  the  girl's  cheeks,  "but  I'm  going 
away  so  soon — and  won't  be  back  for  some 
months — and  I  want  you  to  learn  to  care  a  little 
about  me  before  I  go.  Do  you  think  I  coulcl  make 
you  do  this?" 

"Perhaps,"  faltered  Caryl,  her  voice  trembling 
with  the  joyous  beating  of  her  heart.  Somerdyke 
had  never  talked  to  her  like  this.  She  told  her- 
self that  she  was  realizing  at  last  that  for  which 
she  had  longed,  and  her  happiness  made  her 
breath  come  fast. 

"Then  will  you  begin  by  calling  me  by  my 
first  name?"  Hadley  urged,  triumph  shining  in  his 
eyes. 

"Yes,"  promised  Caryl,  her  cheeks  crimson 
with  excitement  and  gratified  vanity.  "But  you 
mustn't  call  me  'Miss  Marvin'  any  more,  then. 
My  name  is  'Caryl.'  ' 

"It's  a  bargain!"  exclaimed  Hadley,  raising  his 
glass  which  the  waiter  had  just  brought.  "Let's 
drink  a  cocktail  to  our  better  acquaintance — 
Caryl!" 

Julia  had  spent  a  dreary  evening  in  her  room. 
For  an  hour  Mrs.  Halloran  had  tried  to  enter- 
tain her  with  a  lengthy  and  pointless  story  of  the 
doings  of  some  remote  relatives  in  "the  old  coun- 
try." The  girl  had  listened  with  a  show  of  in- 


262  The  Two  Sisters 

terest  which  gratified  the  talker,  but  in  reality  her 
thoughts  had  been  elsewhere.  She  was  unaccount- 
ably uneasy  about  Caryl,  a  fact  for  which  she 
chided  herself. 

Twice  after  Mrs.  Halloran  had  returned  to  her 
own  rooms  in  the  basement  Julia  was  on  the  verge 
of  going  out  to  telephone  to  Delaine  and  ask  him 
what  he  knew  about  the  people  to  whom  'his 
friend  had  introduced  his  stenographer.  Then 
a  sense  of  loyalty  to  her  sister  and  a  mortifying 
recollection  of  that  sister's  insinuations  with  re- 
gard to  Delaine's  attentions  deterred  her.  At 
last  she  controlled  her  doubts  and  fears  sufficiently 
to  undress  and  go  to  bed,  but  sleep  eluded  her 
and  she  lay  in  the  darkness  listening  for  the  sound 
of  Caryl's  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  When  her 
clock  told  her  that  it  was  after  twelve,  she  rose, 
put  on  her  wrapper  and  slippers,  and  paced  the 
floor  in  an  agony  of  anxiety. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  the  door  opened  softly 
and  Caryl  entered  the  room.  Her  face  was 
flushed  and  her  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright. 
With  an  exuberance  of  feeling  which  her  sister 
had  never  seen  her  display  before  she  ran  to  Julia 
and  flung  her  arms  around  her. 

"Oh,  Judy,  Judy!"  she  exclaimed  rapturously, 
"I've  had  such  a  lovely  time!" 

Again,  as  once  before,  Julia's  heart  sank  sick- 


A  Gay  Evening  263 

eningly  as  the  acrid  odor  of  liquor  assailed  her 
nostrils.  She  started  to  speak,  but  controlled  the 
impulse.  Suddenly  there  flashed  into  her  mind  a 
saying  of  her  father's,  "It's  ill  arguing  with  a 
drunken  man,"  and  she  shuddered  at  the  word 
"drunken,"  then  chided  herself  sharply  for  think- 
ing of  such  a  condition  in  connection  with  her  lit- 
tle sister.  Caryl's  friends  had  probably  coaxed 
her  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine,  and,  rather  than  seem 
peculiar,  the  child  had  yielded  and  had  been  af- 
fected by  it  because  she  was  unused  to  stimulants 
— just  as  she  had  been  affected  before  by  some- 
thing she  had  taken  when  with  Somerdyke.  Re- 
membering this,  the  older  sister  decided  to  wait 
until  to-morrow  before  uttering  any  word  of 
warning  or  admonition. 

Meanwhile  Caryl,  struck  by  the  silence,  slowly 
removed  her  arms  from  her  sister's  neck  and 
looked  at  her  apprehensively. 

"Please,  Judy,"  she  begged,  "don't  scold  me  for 
being  out  so  late!  Don't  spoil  my  fun  by  being 
cross  about  it!" 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  cross,  dear,"  Julia  re- 
sponded gently.  "But  I  do  not  mean  to  let  you 
stay  up  any  longer  now,  for  you  are  tired.  Un- 
dress, dear,  and  get  into  bed." 

The  girl  began  to  remove  the  pins  from  her 


264  The  Two  Sisters 

hat  arid,  as  she  did  so,  Julia  started  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Why,  Caryl!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  have  a  new 
hat!  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

Caryl  giggled  nervously.  "Yes — isn't  it  a  stun- 
ner?" she  replied.  "I  got  it  this  afternoon,  and 
this  waist  at  the  same  time.  I  simply  had  to  have 
them,  you  know,  for  I  expect  to  go  to  fashion- 
able places  more  than  I  have  been  doing.  Aren't 
they  both  pretty?" 

"They  are  very  becoming,"  Julia  assented 
slowly.  She  was  tempted  to  ask  what  they  cost, 
but  refrained.  Caryl,  guessing  her  thought,  spoke 
with  apparent  frankness. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "I  am  getting  quite  good 
pay — considering — from  Delaine,  and  he  ought 
to  give  me  a  raise  soon.  I  must  look  well,  for 
my  position  demands  it.  So,  Judy,  I  decided  to 
get  these  things  this  week  and  pay  you  later  for 
my  share  of  the  room-rent." 

As  Julia  did  not  reply  immediately,  Caryl  gig- 
gled again.  "I  declare,"  she  remarked,  "the  fun 
I  had  in  these  new  things  was  worth  more  than 
the  price  paid  for  them." 

"Were  the  girl  and  her  brother  so  pleasant?" 
asked  her  sister,  trying  to  conceal  her  disapproval. 

Caryl   looked   puzzled    for    an    instant,    then 


A  Gay  Evening  265 

laughed:  "Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "they're  all  right 
— and  they  took  me  to  a  good  show." 

"What  is  the  name  of  these  people?"  queried 
Julia.  "I  do  not  even  know  their  names." 

Caryl  was  lifting  her  dress-skirt  off  over  her 
head  and  pretended  not  to  hear;  when  she 
emerged  from  its  folds  she  yawned,  then  sighed. 

"Oh,"  she  murmured,  "I'm  so  sleepy!  Hon- 
estly, I'm  too  drowsy  to  stop  to  take  down  my 
hair.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  the  evening,  but 
I  can't  now.  Hand  me  my  nightgown,  Judy,  and 
let  me  get  right  to  bed.  I  feel  queer  and  sickish 
all  of  a  sudden.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  the  affair 
to-morrow." 

Julia  said  no  more,  and  Caryl  prepared  for 
bed.  The  younger  girl  had  not  been  lying  down 
for  three  minutes  before  she  was  fast  asleep.  But 
the  room  .was  gray  with  dawn  before  her  sister 
slumbered. 

Caryl  was  not  awake  when  Julia  arose  and  be- 
gan to  dress,  and  was  still  sleeping  when  the  older 
girl  had  completed  her  toilette  and  had  cooked 
and  eaten  her  simple  breakfast. 

"Come,  Caryl,  dear,"  she  called,  laying  her 
hand  on  the  sleeper's  flushed  cheek.  "I've  let  you 
sleep  as  late  as  I  dare  if  I  am  to  give  you  your 
coffee  before  I  start  for  work." 

Caryl  raised  her  heavy  lids  and  looked  at  her 


266  The  Two  Sisters 

sister  dully.  "I've  got  a  headache,"  she  com- 
plained. "I  wish  you'd  let  me  alone." 

"But  what  about  your  work,  dear?"  Julia  re- 
minded her.  "If  I  let  you  sleep  you  may  not  get 
up  in  time  for  that,  for  you  are  so  drowsy  this 
morning  that  you  may  not  awaken  yourself." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will,"  Caryl  insisted.  Then  she 
opened  her  eyes  wider  and  looked  at  her  sister 
obstinately. 

"I  wish,"  she  said,  "that  you'd  telephone  to 
Mr.  Delaine  and  tell  him  I'm  not  well  and  can't 
come  to  him  this  morning." 

"Oh,  Caryl!"  protested  Julia.  "That  would 
not  be  right,  dear.  You  are  in  his  employ  and 
if  you  are  able  to  get  up  you  must  keep  your  ap- 
pointment with  him." 

Caryl  turned  over,  yawned,  stretched  and 
frowned.  "Now,  see  here,  Judy,"  she  argued, 
"I'm  tired  and  I  don't  mean  to  get  up  yet  nor  as 
early  as  I  usually  do.  Since  you  make  such  a  fuss 
over  my  not  going  to  work  to-day,  I  promise  to 
get  up  so  that  I  will  be  at  old  Delaine's  at  eleven. 
Tell  Mrs.  Halloran  to  call  me  about  ten — no 
earlier.  I  never  hear  the  alarm,  so  you  needn't 
set  that  for  me.  You  can  telephone  your  young 
man  that  I'll  be  with  him  at  eleven." 

She  turned  her  face  away,  pulled  the  covers 


A  Gay  Evening  267 

over  her  shoulders  and  closed  her  eyes.  Julia 
looked  at  her  in  perplexity. 

"Caryl,  dear,"  she  pleaded,  "that  is  not  a 
straight  nor  a  business-like  plan.  You  don't  mean 
to  do  that,  do  you?" 

With  an  effort  the  girl  opened  her  eyes  again 
and  regarded  her  sister. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "/  do  mean  it.  You  can  tele- 
phone him  that  I  do.  By  the  way,  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  that  in  your  own  plans  with  him  you 
have  been  so  'straight  and  business-like,'  as  you 
call  it,  that  you  can  scold  me  when  I  do  as  I  please. 
That  makes  a  difference,  doesn't  it?  Now,  do 
please  go  on  and  leave  me  alone.  I'll  talk  all 
you  like  later.  Now  I  want  to  go  to  sleep." 

Julia  walked  to  her  work  with  a  serious  face. 
Her  gravity  was  not  all  because  her  little  sister 
had  been  out  late,  or  had  taken  enough  liquor  to 
make  her  excited  last  night  and  sleepy  and  cross 
this  morning.  These  facts  were  in  themselves 
sufficiently  disturbing,  but  Julia  fortified  her  faint- 
ing heart  with  the  thought  that  a  nice  girl — the 
sister  of  someone  whom  Caryl  had  met  through 
a  friend  of  Delaine's — had  been  with  the  child. 
Probably  this  same  girl  and  her  brother  did  not 
appreciate  how  unaccustomed  Caryl  was  to  the 
gayety  which  they  took  for  granted.  Julia  per- 
suaded herself  that  the  only  objectionable  thing 


268  The  Two  Sisters 

about  them  was,  perhaps,  a  rather  Bohemian  style 
of  life.  She  would  ask  Delaine  what  he  knew 
about  these  people,  and  he  would,  she  hoped,  as- 
sure her  that  they  were  desirable  companions  for 
her  sister.  Until  then  she  would  try  not  to  worry 
about  the  affair. 

But  what  distressed  her  and  caused  her  especial 
uneasiness  this  beautiful  autumn  morning  was  that 
Caryl  had  evidently  formed  the  idea  that  she — 
Julia — was  in  the  habit  of  making  appointments  to 
meet  Kelley  Delaine  at  her  place  of  business  and  of 
having  clandestine  meetings  with  him  elsewhere. 

When  the  elder  girl  reviewed  mentally  all  of 
her  encounters  and  conversations  with  the  author, 
she  felt  no  pang  of  conscience.  These  had  been 
of  such  a  nature,  she  reflected,  that  she  could 
have  told  her  mother  all  about  them,  had  that 
mother  been  living. 

The  hot  tears  arose  suddenly  to  her  eyes  as 
she  .considered  how  much  she  needed  the  advice 
and  counsel  of  the  mother  she  had  loved,  and 
she  saw  the  vista  of  the  already  busy  street 
through  a  quivering  mist.  Then  she  set  her  lips 
in  a  firm  line  to  still  their  quivering  and  walked 
on  bravely. 

Still  she  was  unhappy  in  the  knowledge  that 
Caryl,  doubting  Delaine's  honor  and  her  sister's 
discretion,  was  using  the  harmless  friendship  be- 


A  Gay  Evening  269 

tween  the  two  as  an  excuse  for  any  imprudent 
actions  of  her  own.  Was  it  the  duty  of  an  elder 
sister  to  make  such  suspicions  on  the  part  of  the 
foolish  young  girl  impossible?  Should  she  degline 
to  see  this  man  who  was  her  only  stanch  friend 
in  this  great  city?  And  at  the  suggestion  of  sev- 
ering all  friendly  relations  with  him  her  heart 
gave  a  throb  of  pain,  and  she  whispered  quickly, 
"Oh,  I  can't!" 

The  pain  and  the  involuntary  exclamation  were 
a  self-revelation,  and  she  tried  to  hide  from  her 
own  soul  the  fact  that  she  was  learning  to  love 
this  man  whom  she  had  met  only  a  few  times. 
Surely  this  feeling  was  only  friendship,  she  de- 
clared fiercely.  Since  he  was  her  friend,  she  could 
ask  him  his  opinion  of  these  new  acquaintances 
of  Caryl's. 

By  the  time  she  had  come  to  this  conclusion 
Julia  Marvin  had  reached  Baird's.  Here — after 
calling  up  Delaine's  apartment  and  delivering  to 
his  servant  Caryl's  message — she  took  her  place 
behind  the  counter  with  the  reassuring  thought 
that  to-day,  at  least,  she  need  take  no  steps  in  the 
matter  that  was  troubling  her — not  until  she  had 
a  frank  talk  with  Caryl  this  evening.  During  that 
talk  she  would  try  to  win  the  child's  confidence, 
and  would  learn  the  names  of  Caryl's  hosts  of 
last  night 


XXIII 

A   TELEPHONE   MESSAGE   AND   A    SCHEME 

Mrs.  Halloran,  in  accordance  with  Julia's  re- 
quest, mounted  the  stairs  at  10  o'clock  and  rapped 
on  Caryl's  door  with  a  thump  that  made  the  girl 
spring  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"What  under  the  sun  is  the  matter?"  she  called 
out  tartly.  "Don't  knock  so  hard!" 

"Sure,  your  sister  told  me  to  be  sure  to  wake 
you  at  tin  o'clock,"  called  back  the  strenuous  land- 
lady, "and  it's  that  time  now!" 

"All  right!"  grumbled  Caryl.     "Thank  youl" 

The  thanks  were  uttered  in  such  an  ungracious 
tone  that  Mrs.  Halloran  did  not  carry  out  her 
first  kindly  impulse  of  telling  the  late  riser  that 
she  would  bring  up  to  her  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"Indade  she  can  fend  for  herself,  all  right,  all 
right!"  she  muttered,  as  she  went  heavily  down- 
stairs. 

All  trace  of  annoyance  had  disappeared  from 
Caryl  Marvin's  fair  face  as  she  greeted  Kelley 

270 


A  Telephone  Message        271 

Delaine  an  hour  later.  Intuition  warned  her  that 
if  he  and  Julia  were  on  friendly  terms  it  would 
be  as  well  for  his  stenographer  to  be  in  his  good 
books  until  she  could  make  arrangements  to  better 
herself. 

Her  evening  with  Hadley  had  awakened  in  her 
silly  and  vain  mind  wild  hopes  for  love  and  mar- 
riage. Had  Ben  Hadley  not  told  her  that  she 
was  different  from  all  the  other  girls  he  had  ever 
known,  and  that  he  wanted  her  to.  learn  to  care 
for  him  before  he  went  away?  Did  that  not  mean 
that  he  would  ask  her  to  marry  him  as  soon  as 
he  was  sure  of  her  affection? 

Might  it  not  be  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight, 
such  as  she  had  read  of  and  heard  of?  Why 
should  any  man — even  if  he  did  have  lots  of 
money — (and  she  thrilled  with  the  conviction  that 
Hadley  was  rich) — take  a  girl  to  such  a  dinner, 
and  to  such  a  stunning  show  at  the  theater — the 
best  seats  in  the  house,  too! — if  he  was  not  des- 
perately smitten  with  her?  All  that  was  needed 
now  was  the  opportunity  to  see  him  often. 

If  only  Julia  would  recognize  what  a  chance  lay 
before  her  sister  and  would  not  make  matters 
difficult  by  her  prudery  and  fussiness,  how  happy 
she,  Caryl,  might  be  at  last!  She  saw,  as  in  a 
vision,  herself  engaged,  then  married  and  dress- 
ing in  beautiful  clothes,  moving  in  fashionable  so- 


272  The  Two  Sisters 

ciety,  meeting  and  flouting  Somerdyke  and  his 
"stuck-up"  girl  friend. 

But  how  could  she  pull  wires  so  as  to  remove 
all  obstacles  to  such  a  blissful  consummation? 
Perhaps  if  she  kept  on  the  right  side  of  Delaine 
he  might  persuade  Julia  that  any  persons  whom 
one  might  meet  through  any  friend  of  his  were 
suitable  associates  for  his  stenographer. 

But  to  have  him  do  this  Caryl  must  plan  some 
way  to  make  him  think  that  he  knew  the  persons 
with  whom  she  was  supposed  to  have  spent  last 
evening.  To  carry  out  this  scheme  she  must  see 
Hadley.  Ah,  well,  she  knew  she  would  hear  from 
him  before  the  day  was  over!  And,  thinking 
this,  she  smiled  brilliantly  in  returning  her  em- 
ployer's grave  "Good  morning!" 

"I  hope  you  are  feeling  better,  Miss  Marvin," 
remarked  Delaine  as  his  stenographer  took  her 
seat  at  the  machine. 

"Oh,  yes,  thank  you,  Mr.  Delaine,"  Caryl  re- 
plied. "I  hope  that  my  coming  at  eleven  instead 
of  ten  was  not  inconvenient  to  you?" 

"It  happens  that  it  was  not  inconvenient  on  this 
particular  morning,"  returned  Delaine,  "as  I 
chanced  to  have  a  bit  of  work  on  hand  that  I 
-could  do  while  waiting  for  you." 

"I  suppose  my  sister  telephoned  you?"  queried 
Caryl. 


A  Telephone  Message        273 

"I  do  not  know  who  called  up,"  the  man  said. 
"Wang  answered  the  'phone  and  was  told  to  in- 
form me  that  as  Miss  Marvin  was  not  well  she 
would  not  be  here  until  eleven  o'clock.  Now 
shall  we  get  to  work?" 

Caryl  glanced  at  him  suspiciously.  Was  he 
lying  to  her,  she  wondered,  and  had  Julia  had  a 
talk  with  him  about  last  evening's  affair? 

One  of  the  prices  the  liar  pays  for  his  sin  is 
that  he  always  suspects  that  other  people  are  lying 
to  him. 

This  morning  Caryl  Marvin  pinned  her  mind 
to  the  work  before  her.  She  took  Delaine's  dic- 
tation with  an  air  of  absorption  in  his  every  sen- 
tence that  could  not  fail  to  impress  the  author. 
After  all,  he  thought,  she  was  a  good  little  thing, 
even  if  she  was  silly,  and  she  was  evidently  trying 
hard  to  please  him.  She  could  hardly  live  with 
such  a  girl  as  her  sister  and  not  absorb  some  of 
the  conscientious  industry  that  that  splendid  crea- 
ture possessed.  At  the  remembrance  of  the 
woman  whom  he  loved  his  voice  grew  gentler,  his 
eyes  kinder.  And  Caryl,  noting  this,  thought  that 
he  liked  his  stenographer  better  to-day  than  ever 
before.  Was  it  because  of  her  efforts  to  do  her 
work  well,  or  because  she  was  looking  so  pretty 
this  morning? 

The  shrill  summons  of  the  telephone  on  the 


274  The  Two  Sisters 

desk  interrupted  Kelley  Delaine's  train  of 
thought,  and,  with  an  impatient  scowl,  he  took 
the  receiver  from  its  hook. 

"Well,"  he  asked.     "What  is  it?" 

Something  in  his  tone  of  personal  detachment 
made  Caryl  catch  her  breath.  Could  the  message 
be  for  her? 

"Yes,"  Delaine  was  saying,  "I  understand. 
She's  here.  Hold  the  wire."  Then  he  turned  to 
his  stenographer.  "Miss  Marvin,"  he  announced 
coldly,  "you  are  wanted  on  the  'phone.  You  can 
sit  here  in  my  chair." 

As  he  went  out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door 
behind  him,  Caryl  had  a  swift  sensation  of  dis- 
.comfort  mingled  with  relief.  His  deportment 
seemed  to  imply  that  she  might  have  something 
to  say  that  she  did  not  wish  him  to  hear,  yet  she 
was  glad  that  he  was  not  to  be  present  while  she 
talked  with  her  unseen  friend.  She  guessed  at 
once  who  had  asked  for  her,  but  expressed  sur- 
prise when  the  voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire 
said:  "Good  morning!  Guess  who  this  is  I" 

"Why — why — Mr. — I  mean,  why — Ben,"  she 
stammered,  in  well-feigned  astonishment.  "I 
thought  you  were  someone  else." 

She  lowered  her  voice  lest  Kelley  might  be  lis- 
tening outside  of  the  door — as  she  herself  would 
do  under  similar  circumstances. 


A  Telephone  Message        275 

"I  am  sorry  you  could  think  of  anybody  except 
me  this  morning,"  the  voice  went  on  reproach- 
fully. "You,  and  you  only,  have  been  in  my  mind 
since  we  parted.  But,  I  say,  girlie,  I  mustn't  keep 
you  from  work  now.  All  I  want  to  know  is  if  I 
can't  see  you  to-day?" 

Caryl's  thoughts  worked  rapidly.  Of  course, 
seeing  him  this  evening  was  out  of  the  question. 
She  must  have  that  talk  with  Julia  to-night.  While 
she  hesitated  Hadley  spoke  again : 

"I  remember  you  told  me  that  I  couldn't  come 
to  that  sad-looking  joint  where  your  sister  insists 
on  living  to  get  local  color.  But  I  thought  you 
might  grant  me  an  hour  somewhere  late  this  after- 
noon." 

Caryl's  face  was  lighted  by  a  smile  of  joy. 
"Why,  yes,"  she  agreed.  "I  can  spare  you  an 
hour  between  four  and  five." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  the  man.  "I'll  meet  you 
just  inside  of  the  Fifty-ninth  street  gate  of  Central 
Park  at  4,  and  we'll  have  tea  together  at  some 
quiet  place.  How  does  that  sound  to  you?" 

"All  right!"  assented  the  girl.  "There's  some- 
thing I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  anyway." 

"There  are  lots  of  things  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about,"  the  man  declared.  "Wasn't  I  foxy  to 
hunt  up  old  Delaine's  number?  He  never  guessed 
who  it  was  that  was  asking  for  you  just  now." 


276  The  Two  Sisters 

"He  mustn't  guess,"  Caryl  rejoined  hurriedly. 
uGood-by!" 

"Good-by — dear!"  the  man  murmured,  and  at 
the  sound  of  his  low  tones  the  girl's  face  flushed 
and  her  eyes  shone  with  happiness. 

"He  loves  me  already!"  she  whispered  as  she 
went  back  to  her  machine  to  wait  for  Delaine's 
return. 

The  minutes  ticked  themselves  slowly  away, 
and  the  waiting  girl  grew  nervous.  Did  Delaine 
suppose  that  she  was  talking  all  this  time?  When 
ten  minutes  had  passed  she  summoned  courage  to 
knock  at  the  door  leading  into  the  next  room, 
then,  as  Delaine  called  out  "Come  in !"  she  opened 
the  door  softly  and  glanced  in.  The  man  sitting 
there  rose  to  his  feet  as  he  saw  her. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  faltered,  "I  thought  that  per- 
haps you  did  not  know  that  I  had  finished  talking 
on  the  telephone  some  time  ago." 

"I  did  not  know,"  Delaine  rejoined. 

"I  am  sorry,"  the  girl  said  awkwardly,  "that 
you  should  have  been  disturbed  like  this  in  your 
dictation.  I  will  tell  Julia  not  to  send  me  a  mes- 
sage by  one  of  the  clerks  during  working  hours 
again.  I  suppose,"  with  an  apologetic  smile,  "that 
she  could  not  get  away  from  the  counter  herself 
just  then,  and  was  foolishly  anxious  to  know  if 
I  was  better." 


A  Telephone  Message        277 

Her  employer  said  nothing  in  reply  to  this 
pseudo  explanation.  In  his  heart  he  was  think- 
ing,— "that  was  not  Somerdyke's  voice — thank 
goodness!  But  it  was  no  clerk  from  Baird's 
either.  And  he  delivered  to  my  very  uncandid 
little  stenographer  no  message  from  her  sister!" 

Caryl  Marvin  was  at  the  place  suggested  by 
Ben  Hadley  some  minutes  before  he  appeared. 
Standing  in  the  park  gateway,  the  girl  waited  for 
him,  a  frown  of  anxiety  on  her  forehead.  It 
was  already  4  o'clock.  She  did  not  want  to  place 
herself  in  a  position  where  Julia  could  question 
her  as  to  her  whereabouts  this  afternoon,  there- 
fore she  must  be  back  in  her  room  before  her 
sister  returned  from  work.  Yet  she  hated  ta  miss 
a  moment  of  pleasure  with  Hadley. 

"Why  stand  looking  exactly  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection from  that  in  which  I  might  be  expected 
to  come?"  asked  a  gay  voice  behind  her,  and  all 
shadow  vanished  from  the  girl's  face  as  she 
turned  and  greeted  the  new  arrival. 

"I  wasn't  even  thinking  of  you  just  then,"  she 
averred. 

"What  were  you  thinking  of?"  he  asked,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  her  arm  and  leading  her  into  the 
park.  "We'll  walk  for  a  little  way — over  to 
Fifth  avenue — and  then  take  the  'bus  down  to  a 


278  The  Two  Sisters  . 

certain  tea  room  I  have  in  mind — so  you  can  tell 
me  now  what  you  were  daring  to  think  of  while 
I  was  hurrying  toward  you  with  all  my  thoughts 
flying  in  your  direction." 

The  girl  laughed,  then  sighed.  "Oh,  well," 
she  replied,  "if  you  insist  on  knowing,  I  was  think- 
ing of  my  sister." 

"What  about  her?" 

"Why — I  was  wondering  what  I  was  to  tell  her 
when  she  asks  me  the  name  of  the  person  who 
took  me  out  last  night.  For  she  will  ask  it,  of 
course." 

"She  doesn't  know  yet?"  the  man  queried 
quickly. 

Caryl  shook  her  head.  "Oh,  no — I  didn't  tell 
her."  There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "She 
thinks  my  employer  is  just  about  right,"  she  ob- 
served with  apparent  irrelevance. 

"Oh, — she  does,  does  she?"  the  man  remarked, 
with  a  knowing  smile.  "I  see!" 

Even  Caryl  had  the  grace  to  feel  vaguely  un- 
comfortable at  the  implication  conveyed  in  his 
tone. 

"Oh,"  she  hastened  to  explain,  "I  do  not  mean 
that  he  has  paid  her  any  especial  attention, — only 
he  happens  to  be  the  one  man  she  knows  in  New 
York,  and  he  has  talked  a  lot  of  fatherly  things 
to  me, — at  least  he  has  tried  to, — about  follow- 


A  Telephone  Message        279 

ing  my  sister's  advice, — and  I  suppose  Julia  thinks 
that  as  long  as  I  am  with  him,  and  no  other  man, 
I  am  safe." 

She  paused.  "I  hope  you  are,"  Hadley  mut- 
tered. 

"I'm  safe  anywhere,"  Caryl  declared  with  dig- 
nity. "I'm  no  child,  remember,  though  my  sister 
thinks  I  am.  She  worries  so  much  about  me  that 
I  actually  allowed  her  to  believe  that  I  was  out 
last  night  with  some  man  and  his  sister.  She  got 
the  notion  that  I  had  met  these  people  through 
Mr.  Somerdyke  or  Mr.  Delaine,  and  that  they 
were  people  Mr.  Delaine  would  approve  of." 

The  man  looked  at  her  curiously.  "How  under 
the  sun  did  she  get  the  idea  that  there  was  a  girl 
with  you  last  night?"  he  queried. 

"Goodness  knows  I"  laughed  Caryl.  "I  don't 
know  how  she  got  it, — unless  she  misunderstood 
something  that  I  said.  But  since  the  idea  makes 
her  comfortable  I've  let  her  keep  it." 

"Good,"  murmured  the  man.  After  a  pause 
he  continued :  "When  we  get  to  the  little  tea  shop 
we'll  talk  this  matter  over  and  decide  on  our 
modus  operandi." 

"Our  what?"  asked  the  girl,  off  her  guard. 
Then  she  flushed  hotly  as  she  appreciated  that 
Hadley  had  spoken  in  a  foreign  language  and 
that  she  had  betrayed  her  ignorance  of  it.  "I 


280  The  Two  Sisters 

did  not  hear  what  you  said,"  she  stammered  con- 
fusedly. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right!"  Hadley  smiled.  "I  only 
suggested  that  we  talk  this  matter  out  over  the 
tea  cups  and  decide  what  we'll  tell  fussy  sister." 

The  tea  room  to  which  they  went  when  they 
left  the  Fifth  avenue  stage  was  a  tiny  place,  and 
there  were  few  people  there.  Hadley  did  not 
suggest  that  they  have  any  drink  stronger  than 
tea.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  procure  liquor 
in  this  establishment,  and  was  glad  that  this  was 
so,  for  he  wanted  to  talk  to  his  companion  when 
her  mind  was  unclouded  and  calm.  He  must  as- 
certain just  what  she  had  led  her  sister  to  believe. 

Caryl  gave  him  the  desired  information  glibly. 
But  she  did  not  confess  to  him  that  the  story  with 
which  Julia  had  been  duped  had  been  a  deliberate 
falsehood.  This  Ben  Hadley  already  suspected, 
and  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  appreciate  that  a 
girl  who  had  such  a  vivid  imagination  and  so  lit- 
tle regard  for  the  truth  as  had  Caryl  Marvin 
would  be  easily  influenced  by  anyone  who  would 
appeal  to  her  love  of  luxury  and  to  her  insatiate 
vanity.  Knowing  this,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  fall 
in  with  her  scheme  for  hoodwinking  her  sister 
and  Delaine. 

"The  trouble  of  it  is,"  regretted  the  girl,  "I 


A  Telephone  Message        281 

don't  know  the  names  of  any  of  Mr.  Somerdyke's 
friends — and  Julia  has  the  notion  that  the  people 
I  went  with  last  night  were  people  my  employer 
knew  about.  As  long  as  the  dear  girl  thinks  that 
she  will  not  worry  when" —  she  stopped,  and 
Hadley  gazed  at  her  expectantly. 

"When  what?"  he  insisted.  "Finish  your  sen- 
tence, Caryl." 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  admitted  the  girl,  "when 
I  happened  to  be  out  with  you — if  you  should 
ever  ask  me  to  go  anywhere  with  you  again,"  she 
concluded  coquettishly. 

The  man  leaned  across  the  little  table,  and,  as 
there  was  nobody  near  enough  to  see  his  action, 
took  the  girl's  hands  in  both  of  his.  She  did  not 
resist. 

"If  I  should  ask  you !"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't 
you  know  I  will  ask  you  every  chance  I  get?" 

Caryl  dropped  her  eyes.  "I  almost  hope  you 
will,"  she  confessed. 

Still  he  held  her  hands.  "Since  I  want  you 
just  as  often  as  you  will  honor  me  by  meeting 
me,  won't  you  say  that  you  hope  I  will  ask  you, 
instead  of  that  you  almost  hope  so?"  he  urged. 

Caryl  lifted  her  eyes  and  gazed  at  him  steadily 
before  speaking.  Then  she  drew  a  long  breath 
of  happiness. 

"I  hope  sol"  she  said  softly. 


282  The  Two  Sisters 

There  was  a  look  of  triumph  on  Ben  Hadley's 
handsome  face. 

"Fine!"  he  ejaculated,  releasing  her  hands. 
"Now  see  what  you  think  of  my  plan.  Since  your 
sister  thinks  the  friend  with  whom  you  are  going 
out  just  now  is  a  fellow  with  a  sister,  we  must 
think  of  some  girl  whom  Somerdyke  knows  and 
of  whom  Delaine  has  probably  heard.  I  know 
such  a  girl." 

"Who  is  she?"  Caryl  queried. 

"She  is  a  Dora  Redfield,"  Hadley  said,  drop- 
ping his  voice.  "I  met  her  only  this  afternoon 
with  Somerdyke,  and  as  I  stopped  and  spoke  to 
them  Harry  had  to  introduce  me.  From  what  I 
hear,  he's  paying  her  very  serious  attention  just 
now.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
they're  already  engaged." 

"Is  she  tall  and  slender,  with  big  brown  eyes 
and  a  smiling  kind  of  a  mouth?"  Caryl  asked 
quickly. 

"She's  all  those  things  and  then  some!"  the 
man  replied.  "How  did  you  know?" 

"I've  met  her,"  said  Caryl  briefly.  A  wave  of 
resentment  swept  over  her,  but  she  did  not  let 
the  man  suspect  what  was  passing  through  her 
mind.  He  thought  this  girl  pretty,  too,  did  he? 
Well,  she  should  not  catch  him  as  she  had  caught 


A  Telephone  Message        283 

Somerdyke — not  if  Caryl  Marvin  could  hold 
him! 

"Do  you  really  know  her?"  she  heard  Hadley 
asking,  a  note  of  surprise  in  his  voice,  a  note 
that  would  have  piqued  a  prouder  girl  than  Caryl. 

"I  did  not  say  that  I  knew  her,"  she  corrected 
him,  rather  tartly — "only  that  I  had  met  her." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  rejoined  Hadley.  "Well,  what  I 
was  about  to  say  is  that  I  happen  to  know  that 
this  Miss  Redfield  has  a  brother,  and  that  it  was 
through  him  that  Somerdyke  became  acquainted 
with  this  girl.  The  point  is  that  Delaine  probably 
knows  that  this  girl  has  a  brother,  since  Somer- 
dyke must  have  spoken  of  him.  Now,  why  not 
tell  your  sister  that  John  Redfield  and  his  sister 
are  asking  you  here,  there  and  everywhere?" 

"But,"  Caryl  hesitated,  "suppose  she  finds  out 
that  they  are  not?" 

"How  could  she  find  out?"  Hadley  evaded. 
"Were  she  to  ask  Delaine,  he  could  say  truly  that 
he  does  not  know  these  people  personally,  but 
that  he  is  aware  that  Somerdyke  has  friends  of 
that  name — swells  at  that.  His  assurance  as  to 
their  good  standing  will  satisfy  your  sister."1 

"Yes" — the  girl  still  hesitated — "but  if  Mr. 
Delaine  should  happen  to  ask  Mr.  Somer- 
dyke  " 

"That's  not  likely,"  Hadley  interrupted.    "One 


284  The  Two  Sisters 

man  doesn't  ask  another  man  about  the  girl  the 
other  fellow  is  paying  especial  attention  to — at 
least  men  like  Delaine  don't.  If  he's  like  what 
he  was  years  ago,  he's  rather  strict  in  his  notions 
of  minding  his  own  business.  Besides,  he  doesn't 
see  Harry  as  often  as  he  did.  Harry's  busy  mak- 
ing love  and  getting  ready  to  go  away." 

"Is  he  going  away?"  asked  Caryl,  astonished. 

"Sure  he  is,  going  down  to  South  America 
again,  so  has  no  time  to  waste  on  Delaine  just 
now.  I'm  to  join  him  there  later,  but  I'm  not 
starting  as  soon  as  he  is." 

There  was  a  long  pause  before  he  spoke  again, 
his  voice  once  more  low  and  confidential. 

"You  see,  as  I  am  going  before  long,  I  want  to 
know  you  well,  want  to  have  you  learn  to  care  as 
much  for  me  as  I  do  for  you  before  I  leave.  That 
is  the  reason  we  must  throw  your  sister  off  the 
scent,  and  let  her  believe  the  story  we've  planned. 
If  not,  she  may  make  our  meetings  hard — per- 
haps almost  impossible." 

"I  see,"  agreed  Caryl.  Her  thoughts  were  a 
curious  medley  of  resentment  against  Harry  Som- 
erdyke  and  the  girl  he  loved,  triumph  at  Hadley's 
evident  affection  for  herself,  and  wild  hopes  of  a 
speedy  engagement  and  marriage.  There  was 
one  more  point  on  which  she  wanted  to  be  sure. 


A  Telephone  Message        285 

"You  must  have  lots  of  money,"  she  ventured, 
"to  travel  about  the  world  as  you  like.  It  seems 
wonderful  to  a  girl  who  has  to  work  for  her  liv- 
ing." 

The  man  laughed  in  a  satisfied  way.  "Yes," 
he  acknowledged,  "I  guess  that  old  wolf  we  hear 
about  won't  get  very  near  my  door.  But,  child,  I 
work,  too — sometimes.  My  profession  is  that  of 
a  mining  engineer.  That's  one  reason  I'm  going 
down  to  South  America.  Somerdyke  says  there's 
a  big  job  there  for  me  just  now.  Not  that  I  want 
the  money  especially — for  I  have  all  that  I  really 
need.  But,"  with  another  laugh,  "I'd  not  ob- 
ject to  having  more  than  I  need.  Then  I  shall 
travel  and  do  as  I  please  for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

The  girl's  head  swam  for  a  moment.  She  had 
a  mental  picture  of  her  mean  room  in  a  cheap 
lodging-house,  of  her  poor  and  scanty  wardrobe, 
of  the  plain  fare  that  she  and  her  sister  ate — 
above  all  of  the  dull  monotony  of  daily  work. 
How  she  hated  work !  And  this  man  had  all  the 
money  he  needed,  and  expected  soon  to  have  so 
much  that  he  could  do  as  he  pleased  all  the  rest 
of  his  days!  She  almost  laughed  aloud  in  hys- 
terical excitement  as  she  thought  what  marriage 
to  him  would  mean — travel,  handsome  clothes,  a 
beautiful  place  to  live  in,  absolute  freedom  from 


286  The  Two  Sisters 

drudgery.  She  sprang  to  her  feet  suddenly  in 
order  to  conceal  her  joyous  agitation. 

"I  must  be  going!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  want  to 
get  home  by  6  o'clock — before  Julia  returns." 

The  man  glanced  at  his  watch.  "Come  on, 
then,"  he  said.  "You  can  get  there  easily  on 
time  if  I  can  find  a  taxicab  out  here  in  front." 

"Oh,  that's  not  necessary,"  Caryl  began,  but 
he  checked  her. 

"Do  you  suppose  I'd  let  you  walk,  dear?"  he 
asked  reprovingly. 

Five  minutes  later,  when  he  had  put  her  into 
a  cab,  paid  the  driver  in  advance  and  she  was  on 
her  way  home,  she  leaned  back  with  a  long  breath 
of  content. 

"This  is  the  way  it  will  always  be  when  I  am 
married  to  him!"  she  whispered. 


XXIV 

"A  LONG  TALK"  AND  A  RESOLUTION 

HADLEY  was  right.  Caryl  Marvin  reached 
home  ten  minutes  before  Julia.  The  younger  girl 
saw  a  swift  look  of  relief  cross  her  sister's  face 
as  she  entered  their  room. 

"Oh,  Caryl,  dear,  I'm  glad  you're  here!"  she 
cried.  "I  was  pretty  sure  you  would  be." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Caryl  rejoined  cheerfully.  "I'm 
here  all  right.  Why  should  I  be  anywhere  else? 
Where  else  is  there  to  go?" 

"To  be  sure,"  agreed  Julia.  "Yet  as  you  were 
out  last  night,  and  I  missed  you  so  much,  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  let  myself  think  how  forlorn 
it  would  be  for  me  if  you  were  not  in  this 
evening." 

"You  are  very  silly,"  Caryl  said  affectionately. 
Crossing  the  room,  she  kissed  her  sister  on  the 
cheek.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  worry  so,  Judy,  but 
would  just  be  happy,  too." 

Julia  gazed  at  her  sister  longingly,  then,  put- 
ting her  arms  about  her,  drew  her  to  her  in  a  sud- 
den passion  of  tenderness. 

287 


288  The  Two  Sisters 

"Oh,  little  sister,  little  sister!"  she  exclaimed, 
"how  can  I  help  being  silly  about  you?  I  don't 
mean  to  annoy  you,  but  I  do  love  you,  and  when 
you  kiss  me  as  you  did  then  it  seems  as  if  you 
loved  me  as  I  love  you — and  it  makes  me  so 
glad!" 

Caryl  patted  her  sister's  cheek  reassuringly. 
"Why,  dear  Judy,"  she  cooed,  "of  course  I  love 
you  just  as  much  as  you  love  me,  and  I  want  you 
to  believe  that  I  do.  I  know  I  am  horrid  and 
cross  sometimes,  but  I'm  going  to  try  to  be  nicer, 
truly." 

"And  you're  going  to  be  careful,  too,  darling, 
aren't  you?"  asked  Julia  anxiously. 

Caryl  pulled  herself  away  with  a  little  laugh. 
"Well,  from  the  present  looks  of  things,  I  won't 
have  much  chance  to  be  anything  but  careful," 
she  remarked.  "Mr.  Somerdyke — the  man  that 
met  me,  you  remember  once  at  Delaine's  studio 
and  took  me  to  lunch  and  for  an  auto  ride — has 
gone  or  is  going  to  South  America;  so  the  only 
man  I  can  go  anywhere  with  has  a  sister  who 
goes  along  with  us." 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  those  people,  Caryl?" 
Julia  asked  timidly. 

"Of  course  I  will,"  Caryl  agreed,  "but  not 
until  after  we  have  come  back  from  dinner.  I 
want  to  have  a  good  long  talk  with  you  then." 


A  Long  Talk  289 

The  "good  long  talk"  left  Julia  Marvin  more 
at  peace  and  almost  happy.  To  be  sure,  Caryl 
had  prefaced  her  confidences  with  the  request  that 
Julia  say  nothing  to  anybody — "even  to  Mr.  De- 
laine," she  had  added  with  some  acerbity — about 
the  fact  that  Somerdyke  was  in  love  with  Dora 
Redfield. 

"She  has  taken  a  fancy  to  me,"  Caryl  said, 
"and  but  for  that  she  might  not  have  told  me  as 
much  as  she  did  of  Somerdyke's  attentions  to  her. 
Naturally,  she  did  not  say  that  they  were  engaged, 
or  ever  would  be,  but  after  she  had  told  me  of 
what  a  nice  'fellow  Harry  was — and  lots  of  other 
things  in  which  I  did  not  really  agree  with  her, 
although  she  did  not  suspect  that — she  ended  by 
saying:  'I  know  you  will  not  repeat  to  anybody 
what  I  have  told  you.'  And  I  wouldn't,  Judy, 
to  anyone  but  you,  but  I  know  you  are  safe." 

"Thank  you,  dear,"  Julia  responded.  "You 
know  I  won't  betray  any  of  your  confidences." 

Thus  assured,  Caryl  continued  her  improvisa- 
tions, telling  her  sister  that  on  the  day  on  which 
she  had  lunched  with  Somerdyke  he  had  asked 
"the  two  Redfields"  to  join  them.  A  sudden  lik- 
ing and  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  the 
brother  and  sister  and  Caryl. 

"I  think,"  Caryl  said  after  a  while,  glancing 


290  The  Two  Sisters 

shyly  at  her  sister,  "that  John  Redfield  likes  me 
very  much  already.  I  have  not  told  you,  Judy, 
every  time  I  have  met  him  and  Dora,  for  I  en- 
joyed meeting  them  so  much,  and  I  was  afraid 
you  might  disapprove — and — and — I  like  him, 
and,  perhaps  some  time  when  I  see  him  alone, 
he  may  tell  me  that  he  cares  for  me." 

Julia  laid  a  tender  hand  on  her  sister's  shoul- 
der. "If  that  time  comes,  dear,"  she  said,  "you 
will  tell  me — won't  you?" 

Caryl  nodded.  "All  right,"  she  promised,  "and 
until  then  don't  ask  me  any  questions — will 
you?" 

A  sudden  sense  of  uneasiness  assailed  Julia. 
"But  you  don't  know  anything  about  this  man's 
position  or  character,  do  you,  dear?"  she  ob- 
jected. "I  wish  you  did." 

Caryl  tossed  her  head  in  swift  anger.  "Oh, 
Judy !"  she  exclaimed.  "Nobody  can  please  you ! 
Is  it  not  enough  that  I  assure  you  that  these  are 
nice  people?  Here,"  as  if  struck  by  an  urgent 
thought,  "there's  something  that  I  insist  on  your 
doing!  I  have  made  you  promise  not  to  tell  the 
facts  to  Delaine — but  write  him  a  line,  requesting 
him  to  answer  you  at  once,  and  ask  him  if  he 
knows  of  a  man  by  the  name  of  John  Redfield, 
and  whether  he  considers  him  respectable!" 


A  Long  Talk  291 

"Oh,  Caryl  I"  protested  Julia.  "I  can't  do 
that!" 

"Well,  I'll  write  it  for  you  then,"  the  younger 
girl  declared,  carried  out  of  herself  by  wrathful 
excitement.  Hurrying  to  the  table  she  seized  a 
pen  and  began  to  write.  In  a  moment  she  tossed 
a  sheet  of  paper  over  to  her  sister. 

"There,"  she  exclaimed,  "can't  you  copy  that 
and  sign  your  name  to  it?" 

Julia  read  the  unsteady  words  slowly.  "My 
dear  Mr.  Delaine,"  they  ran,  "may  I  ask  you  to 
tell  me  if  you  know  of  a  man  named  John  Red- 
field,  a  friend  of  Mr..  Somerdyke's,  and  if  you 
consider  him  a  trustworthy,  respectable  person?" 

"Now,"  commanded  Caryl,  "copy  that  and 
send  it,  and  then,  perhaps,  when  you  get  that 
man's  answer,  you'll  believe  your  own  sister!" 

Her  manner,  her  look  of  outraged  innocence, 
had  a  powerful  effect  upon  the  older  girl. 

"Oh,  Caryl,"  she  begged  in  an  outburst  of 
penitence  and  of  magnanimity,  the  tears  rushing 
to  her  eyes — "forgive  me !  I  see  now  that  every- 
thing's all  right!  There's  no  need  of  my  writing 
this  letter,  darling.  Forgive  me!  I  do  trust 
you!" 

"I  think  it's  about  time  that  you  did,"  said 
Caryl  coldly.  "But  if  you  care  so  much  for  De- 
laine that  you  have  more  faith  in  him  than  in  me 


292  The  Two  Sisters 

— just  write  to  him  at  once.    If  you  don't,  please 
try  to  treat  me  a  little  more  fairly  in  the  future." 

A  letter  came  for  Julia  Marvin  by  the  early 
morning  mail.  She  read  it  as  she  ate  her  frugal 
breakfast  of  rolls  and  coffee.  Its  contents  brought 
a  glow  to  her  cheeks,  and  made  the  dull  routine 
of  the  working-day  before  her  seem  bright. 
Caryl  was  still  asleep,  or  she  might  have  guessed 
from  her  sister's  happy  look  who  was  the  author 
of  the  epistle. 

"Dear  Miss  Marvin,"  Delaine  wrote,  "ages 
and  aeons  have  dragged  by  since  I  saw  you  last. 
Personally,  when  I  have  a  friend,  I  feel  that  I 
have  a  right  to  see  him  or  her  every  few  days, 
and  I  dare  to  hope  that  you  will  sympathize  with 
my  attitude  sufficiently  to  grant  me  a  half-hour's 
chat  this  afternoon.  Won't  you  change  the  grub- 
by little  park  into  an  oasis,  by  meeting  me  there 
by  the  same  old  bench  at  the  same  old  time?  I 
shall  pray  to  Allah  for  clear  weather,  but,  if  it 
rains,  prepare  to  be  kidnapped  again. 
"Faithfully, 

"KELLEY  DELAINE." 

He  was  waiting  for  her  when  she  entered  the 
park  late  that  afternoon,  and  the  girl  forgot  her 
aching  feet  and  tired  back  as  he  took  her  hand 
in  his  firm  grasp. 


A  Long  Talk  293 

"Thank  you  for  coming,"  he  said.  "You  look 
tired,  and  I  don't  like  that.  It's  rather  late  for 
afternoon  tea,  but  all  the  same  you  and  I  are  go- 
ing across  the  street  to  that  neat  little  restaurant 
and  get  some.  I  shan't  listen  to  any  protests  from 
your  New  England  conscience,  so  come  peaceably, 
unless  you  want  me  to  be  disagreeable." 

Heedless  of  her  feeble  remonstrances  he  guided 
her  toward  the  restaurant.  When  they  were 
seated  at  a  small  white  table  he  drew  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed  triumphantly,  "I've 
been  plotting  this  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  I'm 
proud  of  my  success  in  accomplishing  my  pur- 
pose." 

"Do  you  always  get  what  you  want?"  the  girl 
asked  later  with  a  smile,  as  they  sipped  their 
tea. 

"No,"  he  answered  seriously.  "If  I  did  I 
would  make  you  stop  work,  and  would  send  you 
away  to  a  big  farm  my  uncle  has  up  in  Connecti- 
cut, and  you  should  live  out  in  the  autumn  fields 
twelve  hours  a  day  and  sleep  the  other  twelve. 
You  don't  look  a  bit  well,  Miss  Marvin.  What's 
the  matter?  Is  anything  worrying  you?" 

"Nothing  more  than  usual,"  she  answered,  with 
affected  lightness.  But  he  detected  the  reserve  in 


294  The  Two  Sisters 

her  tone,  and  looked  at  her  keenly  before  speak- 
ing again. 

"I  don't  want  to  intrude,"  he  said  at  last,  "but 
if  there's  anything  that  I  could  do  to  help  you, 
you  aren't  playing  fair  if  you  don't  let  me  know. 
Perhaps  you  are  tired  of  hearing  me  make  that 
statement,  but  I  mean  it." 

"There's  really  nothing  unusual  the  matter," 
Julia  insisted,  "except  that — as  I  told  you  the 
other  day — I  can't  help  feeling  uneasy  about  my 
little  sister,  and  perhaps  that  is  foolish  of  me." 

"Has  Somerdyke "  Delaine  began,  but  she 

interrupted  him. 

"No,  it  isn't  Mr.  Somerdyke,"  she  assured  him. 
"Caryl's  new  friend  is  a  Miss  Dora  Redfield.  Do 
you  know  her?" 

"I  know  her  quite  well,"  Delaine  replied.  "She 
and  Somerdyke  are  engaged,  I  believe." 

"Indeed!"  returned  Julia.  She  was  astonished 
at  his  possession  of  information  that  Caryl  had 
begged  her  to  keep  from  him.  "Miss  Redfield 
has  taken  a  fancy  to  Caryl,"  she  added. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "Ah!"  the 
man  breathed.  Then,  as  the  girl  did  not  speak, 
he  said:  "Go  on  with  what  you  were  saying. 
What's  the  matter?" 

"You  looked  startled,"  Julia  accused. 


A  Long  Talk  295 

"Did  I?"  the  man  evaded.  "I  did  not  mean 
to." 

"Well,  Miss  Redfield,"  continued  the  girl,  "has 
taken  a  fancy  to  Caryl,  as  I  just  said,  and  so  has 
her  brother.  Do  you  know  him,  too?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him  very  well,"  the  man  replied. 

"Mr.  Redfield  has  been  quite  attentive  to  my 
sister,"  Julia  informed  him.  "Night  before  last 
Caryl  was  out  with  him  and  his  sister  until  quite 
late.  Is — is  Mr.  Redfield  the  sort  of  a  person 
my  sister  would  be  safe  with,  Mr.  Delaine?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Delaine.  He  comforted  him- 
self with  the  conviction  that  his  face  did  not  re- 
flect his  amazement.  For  he  had  seen  John  Red- 
field  sail  for  Europe  two  weeks  ago. 

"I  am  glad  you  know  that  he  is  all  right,"  Julia 
observed  innocently.  "As  long  as  you  consider 
him  a  gentleman  I  shall  not  be  uneasy  any  more." 

"No,"  Delaine  repeated  mechanically,  "don't 
be  uneasy." 

The  abstracted  look  that  had  come  to  his  face 
when  John  Redfield  was  first  mentioned  remained, 
but  he  said  nothing  more  of  Caryl  or  her  new 
acquaintances,  and  was  his  usual  bright,  attractive 
self  throughout  their  stay  in  the  little  restaurant 
and  on  their  way  to  Mrs.  Halloran's  house,  to 
which  place  he  insisted  on  escorting  his  com- 
panion. 


296  The  Two  Sisters 

At  the  lodging-house  door  Julia  held  out  her 
hand.  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Delaine,"  she  said  sim- 
ply, as  he  returned  her  cordial  hand-clasp.  "You 
have  given  me  the  pleasantest  hour  I  have  had 
since  I  came  to  New  York.  It  is  good  to  feel 
there  is  someone  to  whom  I  can  talk  things  out." 

Delaine  flushed  happily,  but  there  was  only 
frank  friendship  in  his  eyes  as  he  answered  her. 

"It  makes  me  very  glad  to  think  that  you  are 
willing  to  confide  in  me,  Miss  Marvin,"  he  re- 
joined. "Good-by,  and  please  let  me  see  you 
again  soon." 

Something  besides  mere  friendship  dimmed  his 
eyes  as  he  walked  away. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  he  muttered.  "Poor,  brave 
little  girl!" 

Caryl  was  standing  before  the  mirror  remov- 
ing her  hat  as  Julia  entered  the  room. 

"Where  have  you  been,  little  sister?"  Julia 
asked  affectionately.  "Out  with  the  Redfields?" 

"Yes,"  Caryl  answered  steadily,  "out  for  a 
drive  in  the  park  with  the  Redfields." 

For  a  week  she  enjoyed  the  freedom  from  sis- 
terly surveillance  resulting  from  her  story  of  her 
intimacy  with  Dora  Redfield  and  her  brother. 
Twice  she  went  to  the  theater  with  Hadley,  return- 
ing late  at  night  to  find  Julia  awake  and  sympa- 


A  Long  Talk  297 

thetically  eager  to  listen  to  the  girl's  account  of 
her  happy  evening.  The  older  girl  did  not  know, 
however,  that  her  sister  spent  every  afternoon  in 
the  company  of  her  new  admirer.  Caryl  was 
aware  that  Ben  Hadley's  dominion  over  her  in- 
creased daily,  but  she  did  not  resist  his  influence. 
She  enjoyed  too  much  the  pleasures  the  man's 
money  supplied  and  the  specious  compliments  he 
poured  into  her  eager  ears,  to  wish  to  break  away 
from  him. 

Reassured  by  the  remembrance  that  Delaine 
had  vouched  for  the  good  character  of  John  Red- 
field,  Julia  uttered  no  actual  protest  against  her 
little  sister's  numerous  engagements.  Once  the 
older  girl  suggested  timidly  that  it  seemed  a  little 
strange  that  Miss  Redfield  had  never  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  meet  Caryl's  sister,  but  Caryl  answered 
impatiently. 

"Well,  really,  Julia,"  she  declared,  "I  can't 
ask  her  to  come  here  to  meet  you,  can  I?  And 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  get  her  to  invite  you  to  go 
any  place  with  us  unless  she  thinks  herself  of  do- 
ing so.  So  don't  blame  me,  please!"  And  Julia 
said  no  more. 

In  her  working  hours  Caryl  noticed  a  change 
in  her  employer's  manner,  and  was  puzzled  by  it. 
Delaine  looked  at  her  steadily  and  thoughtfully  at 
times,  and  spoke  to  her  in  a  way  that  made  her  feel 


298  The  Two  Sisters 

uncomfortable  and  vaguely  guilty.  The  author 
had  been  worried  by  the  story  Julia  had  told  him 
of  Caryl's  new  friends,  and  he  was  driven  to  a 
state  of  helpless  exasperation  by  the  knowledge 
that  his  hands  were  virtually  tied — so  far  as 
straightening  out  the  tangle  was  concerned.  To 
be  sure  he  had  sought  out  Harry  Somerdyke,  his 
mind  full  of  a  volley  of  accusations  which  he  in- 
tended to  hurl  at  him,  but  that  gentleman  had  dis- 
armed him  completely  by  professing  absolute  ig- 
norance of  what  Caryl  was  doing.  Delaine  dis- 
creetly withheld  from  his  friend  any  mention  of 
the  Redfields  in  this  connection. 

"Hang  it  all,  Kelley,"  Somerdyke  said  re- 
proachfully, "you  seem  to  forget  that  I  am  not  a 
cad,  and  that  I  consider  a  promise  a  promise.  I 
have  left  Miss  Caryl  Marvin  alone  ever  since  our 
frank  talk  about  her.  Besides,  you  know  enough 
of  my  affairs  to  realize  that  I  have  no  time  nor 
inclination  to  chase  around  with  a  shallow-pated 
little  stenographer.  But  why  you  should  worry 
about  her  beats  me.  You  aren't  her  guardian, 
and  she's  only  following  in  the  path  that  lots  of 
silly  girls  of  her  stamp  take.  Forget  it,  my  boy, 
and  don't  try  to  reform  all  humanity." 

Delaine  left  him,  irritated  and  chagrined,  yet 
believing  that  Somerdyke  was  telling  the  truth, 
and  relieved  that  his  friend  was  not  implicated  in 


A  Long  Talk  299 

what  promised  to  be  a  disagreeable  affair.  Kel- 
ley  was  asking  himself  the  question  that  Julia  had 
put  to  her  troubled  mind  days  ago,  namely :  Why 
was  Caryl  taking  such  pains  to  practise  deception? 
What  was  she  doing  that  demanded  a  covering  of 
falsehoods? 

In  the  hope  of  reassuring  himself  and  calming 
his  fear  that  sorrow  threatened  the  woman  he 
loved,  Delaine  met  Julia  Marvin  again  one  even- 
ing as  she  walked  home  from  work,  and  noted 
with  a  pang  how  innocently  she  chatted  of  Dora 
and  John  Redfield — "your  friends,"  she  called 
them — and  of  their  kindness  to  her  sister.  It 
was  after  this  interview  that  a  resolution  took 
shape  in  the  author's  mind.  He  spent  several 
hours  seated  in  front  of  his  fireplace,  smoking 
more  tobacco  than  was  good  for  him,  in  coming 
to  a  final  decision.  There  was  only  one  way  to 
untangle  the  problem.  He  would  speak  to  Caryl 
herself.  He  would  appeal  to  her,  in  a  kind,  broth- 
erly way,  and  try  to  make  her  see  that  she  was 
not  fair  to  her  sister,  and  that  she  was,  perhaps, 
running  into  dangers  of  which  she  knew  nothing. 

She  might  listen  to  him.  If  she  did  not,  there 
was  just  one  thing  left  to  do.  He  would  have  to 
tell  Julia  the  truth.  He  would  antagonize  Caryl 
before  he  would  do  this, — in  fact,  would  put  him- 
self to  much  inconvenience  rather  than  distress 


30O  The  Two  Sisters 

the  woman  he  loved  by  having  her  suspect  that  all 
was  not  as  it  should  be  with  her  little  sister. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Kelley  Delaine 
reached  this  point  in  his  cogitations,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  put  his  resolutions  into  effect  as  soon  as 
practicable. 


XXV 

DELAINE    SPEAKS    HIS   MIND 

CARYL  MARVIN  awoke  and  yawned  sleepily. 
She  had  made  no  positive  engagement  with  Had- 
ley  for  the  day  or  evening,  and  the  prospect  de- 
pressed her.  While  she  was  dressing,  however, 
Mrs.  Halloran  slipped  a  letter  under  her  door, 
and  her  depression  vanished  as  she  read  it.  It 
was  in  Hadley's  handwriting,  and  contained  a 
plea,  accompanied  by  endearing  epithets,  that  she 
meet  him  at  noon  in  front  of  the  building  in  which 
were  Delaine's  rooms.  The  girl  giggled  as  she 
saw  that  the  letter  was  signed  "Dora  Redfield." 
Ben  was  so  clever! 

She  warmed  over  the  coffee  that  Julia  had  left 
in  the  pot,  for  it  was  too  much  trouble  to  brew 
fresh,  and  ate  her  breakfast  in  her  wrapper. 
Then  she  rose,  with  another  yawn,  to  complete  her 
toilette.  As  she  was  brushing  her  hair  in  front  of 
the  mirror  a  scribbled  note  from  Julia  caught  her 
eye. 

"Dear  little  sister,"   it  ran,   "I   have  set  the 

301 


302  The  Two  Sisters 

alarm-clock  at  the  hour  at  which  you  should  get 
up  to  get  to  Mr.  Delaine's  on  time.  I  do  not  want 
to  wake  you  when  I  go  out,  for  you  looked  so 
tired  last  night  and  got  in  so  late.  I  know  you 
must  be  weary  going  out  so  much.  Dear,  would 
you  mind  making  no  more  engagements  for  this 
week?  Your  pale  cheeks  make  me  anxious  each 
morning.  Take  care  of  yourself  to-day,  dear  lit- 
tle girl.  If  you  would  not  mind  perhaps  you  and 
I  can  go  for  a  little  'bus  ride  to-night. 

"JULIA." 

"  'Bus  ride !"  sniffed  Caryl  contemptuously.  "I 
wonder  what  she'd  say  if  she  knew  of  the  trip  I 
took  yesterday  with  Ben." 

She  had  to  hurry  to  finish  her  toilette,  and  she 
was  flushed  and  very  pretty  when  she  reached  De- 
laine's apartment.  The  author  opened  the  door 
for  her  himself.  His  manner  was  polite,  but  he 
did  not  smile.  He  followed  her  into  the  study, 
and  stood  by  the  window,  gazing  out,  while  she 
took  off  her  hat  and  coat.  Then  he  turned  toward 
her  and  cleared  his  throat  nervously. 

"Ah — Miss  Marvin,"  he  said,  "there  is  some- 
thing I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  before  we  be- 
gin our  work  this  morning." 

At  her  employer's  grave  tone  Caryl  turned 
with  a  start,  and  the  vivid  color  left  her  face.  De- 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind     303 

laine,  noting  this,  was  conscious  of  a  slight  shock. 
Why,  if  she  had  no  sensation  of  guilt,  should  she 
look  so  frightened  at  his  remark  about  wishing  to 
talk  with  her  before  beginning  work? 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  gently,  and,  as  she  dropped 
down  upon  the  divan,  he  drew  a  cha'ir  opposite 
her.  He  felt,  he  told  himself,  as  a  young  dentist 
must  feel  the  first  time  he  attempts  to  pull  a  double 
back  tooth,  and  without  the  use  of  gas. 

"Don't  look  so  startled,  Miss  Marvin,"  he  pro- 
tested, and  was  relieved  when  the  girl  laughed, 
although  the  laugh  was  a  nervous  one. 

"Do  I  look  startled?"  she  parried.  "How  silly 
of  me!  I  am  not  the  least  bit  afraid  of  you." 

Her  color  was  returning  and  her  coquettish 
manner  was  reasserting  itself.  There  was  also 
creeping  into  her  eyes  an  expression  of  defiance. 

"The  matter  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about,"  the 
man  began,  "is  one  that  is  puzzling  me  quite  a  bit. 
I  have  a  friend,  whose  name  you  may  have  heard, 
John  Redfield." 

The  girl  did  not  flinch,  although  her  lips  seemed 
to  stiffen,  as  she  repeated:  "John  Redfield — is  he 
a  friend  of  yours?" 

"Yes,  he  is,"  asserted  Delaine.  "A  few  days 
ago  I  heard  that  he  was  paying  you  attention.  I 
know  this  is  not  so.  Can  you  tell  me  how  the 
story  originated?" 


304  The  Two  Sisters 

"How  should  I  know?"  faltered  Caryl,  her  eyes 
falling  before  his  keen  gaze. 

"As  you  are  the  person  whose  name  is  con- 
nected with  his  I  thought  you  might  be  able  to 
solve  the  mystery.  I  think  you  can,  if  you  will." 

"Why?"  asked  the  girl.  Then  the  look  of  de- 
fiance in  her  eyes  changed  to  a  hard  gleam. 
"Why?"  she  repeated,  and  Delaine  saw  that  her 
temper  was  coming  to  her  aid.  "I  am  in  your 
employ  for  a  certain  number  of  hours  a  day. 
Have  you  any  right  to  my  time  after  that?" 

"Absolutely  none,"  the  man  rejoined  calmly. 
"It  is  not  only  you  that  I  was  considering  in  inter- 
rogating you,  though  I  acknowledge  that  I  think  it 
is  the  duty  of  any  man  to  protect  the  girl  in  his 
employ,  if  he  can  do  so — unless  she  resents  his  in- 
terest in  her — as  you  evidently  resent  mine." 

"If  I  resent  it  why  do  you  pry  into  this  matter? 
It  concerns  me,  and  me  only." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  Delaine  corrected,  "it 
concerns  others  than  yourself.  But,  before  we  go 
into  that,  I  would  ask  you  please  to  regard  me  as 
a  friend  for  a  few  moments,  and  believe  that  I 
would  like  to  save  you  from  the  consequences  of 
your  mistakes — mistakes  of  ignorance,  I  am  sure, 
and  not  of  any  evil  intention." 

"I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  made  any  mis- 
takes," Caryl  objected.  "Moreover,  neither  you 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    305 

nor  anyone  else  knows  my  business — what  I  have 
done  or  left  undone." 

"Some  people  know  what  you  have  said, 
though,"  Delaine  remarked  slowly. 

Something  in  his  tone  made  the  girl  look  at 
him  searchingly.  "What  do  you  mean?"  she 
demanded. 

"I  mean  that  you  have  said  that  you  have  been 
receiving  attention  from  John  Redfield." 

Caryl  sprang  to  her  feet  in  an  outburst  of 
rage.  "Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "so  Julia  has  been 
talking  to  you,  has  she?" 

"Did  you  not  give  her  permission  to  mention 
Redfield  to  me?"  asked  Delaine.  "I  understood 
her  to  say  so." 

"Yes,  I  did,"  acknowledged  Caryl  wrathfully, 
"because  I  knew  that  she  would  take  your  word 
rather  than  mine.  But" — with  a  stamp  of  her 
foot — "what  business  is  all  this  of  yours?  What 
right  have  you  to  meddle  in  this  matter?" 

"If  you  will  sit  down  and  listen  quietly,  Miss 
Marvin,  I  will  talk  frankly  to  you,"  Delaine  said. 
And,  as  she  dropped  down  upon  the  divan  again, 
he  continued.  "I  have  the  right  that  a  friend  has 
to  help  the  woman  who  trusts  him.  I  am  your 
sister's  friend." 

Caryl  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Is  that  all?" 
she  sneered. 


306  The  Two  Sisters 

A  sudden  solemnity  came  into  the  man's  face 
and  manner,  and  even  the  excited  and  heedless 
girl  was  impressed  by  it. 

"Unfortunately,"  he  said,  "that  is  all.  Since 
you — in  spite  of  your  carelessness  of  her  wishes — 
must  love  your  sister,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have 
told  nobody  else.  I  love  your  sister  more  than 
I  have  ever  loved  any  other  human  being.  I 
am  not  fit  to  be  her  servant,  but  I  am  going  to 
ask  her  to  marry  me." 

Caryl  gasped.  She  could  not  doubt  her  com- 
panion's sincerity. 

"You  want  to  marry  Judy!"  she  exclaimed. 
Then,  under  her  breath  she  muttered,  "she  always 
gets  what  she  wants." 

Delaine  heard  the  words  and  smiled  sadly. 

"She  certainly  does  not  'want'  me,"  he  returned. 
"I  wish  to  God  she  did.  I  doubt  if  she  would 
have  me  as  a  free  gift.  But  all  this  is  beside  the 
question.  As  nearly  as  I  can  understand,  Miss 
Julia  Marvin  has  missed  many  of  the  things  that 
other  girls  desire  and  get — such  as  a  happy  home, 
love  of  family,  somebody  to  look  after  her.  She 
has  worked  hard  and  steadily  ever  since  she  left 
her  father's  home,  and  while  she  lived  there  I 
fancy  her  life  was  not  one  of  ease.  I  judge  of  all 
these  things,  not  from  what  she  has  told  me  so 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    307 

much  as  from  the  things  she  has  not  told  me.  She 
never  complains." 

He  paused,  and  it  seemed  that  he  was  waiting 
to  hear  some  expression  that  would  prove  that  his 
listener  appreciated  the  truth  of  what  he  was 
saying,  but  she  remained  silent. 

"Miss  Julia  Marvin  has  just  one  person  to 
love,  and  that  is  you,  her  little  sister,"  he  contin- 
ued. "And  it  is  for  her  sake,  you  see,  that  I  want 
to  win  your  confidence.  Won't  you,"  he  urged, 
"tell  me  the  truth  now,  child?" 

Caryl  had  been  so  much  astonished  at  Delaine's 
frank  admission  of  love  for  her  sister  that  for  the 
moment  she  forgot  her  own  especial  grievance 
against  him  and  answered  meekly: 

"What  do  you  want  to  know?" 

"I  want  to  ask  you  why  you  have  told  your  sis- 
ter that  John  Redfield  has  been  taking  you  to  din- 
ner, to  the  theater,  and  so  forth.  Another  thing 
that  gives  me  the  right  to  ask  is  that  John  Red- 
field  is  my  friend,  as  I  have  already  told  you. 
Why  have  you  used  his  name  and  his  sister's?" 

The  girl  flushed  hotly.  "Why  shouldn't  I,  if  I 
want  to?"  she  returned. 

"Because  it  is  dangerous  to  tell  what  is  not 
true,"  the  man  reminded  her. 

"You  mean,"  said  Caryl,  "that  I  have  told  my 
sister  that  I  knew  Dora  Redfield  well?  Yes,  I 


3o8  The  Two  Sisters 

told  Judy  that,  because  I  knew  she  would  worry 
less  than  if  she  thought  I  went  out  alone  with 
a  man." 

"With  what  man?"  asked  Delaine,  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  her. 

Caryl  twisted  uncomfortably.  She  felt  almost 
as  if  she  were  being  hypnotized,  and  she  heard 
herself  saying,  "John  Redfield,  of  course." 

"Why  did  you  say  John  Redfield  was  paying 
you  attention?"  insisted  Delaine. 

Suddenly  the  girl's  wrath  burst  forth  again, 
sweeping  away  her  temporary  submission. 

"What  business  is  that  of  yours?"  she  retorted 
angrily. 

Delaine  sighed  with  forced  patience.  "We 
have  gone  over  all  this  ground  already,"  he  re- 
marked, "but  I  will  tell  you  again  that  John 
Redfield  is  my  friend." 

His  unmoved  manner  irritated  the  girl  almost 
to  frenzy.  She  sprang  up,  and  stood  facing  him. 

"Your  friend!"  she  ejaculated  angrily.  "You 
mean,  I  suppose,  that  you  have  to  protect  your 
friend  against  me — that  I  am  not  good  enough  to 
associate  with  him !  Well,  I  will  go  with  him 
where  I  please, — understand?  You  can  tell  Judy 
this,  if  you  wish!"  She  tossed  her  head,  and 
glared  at  him  defiantly.  "You  have  to  protect 
him  against  me,  eh!"  she  reiterated. 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    309 

Delaine  had  risen,  too,  and  now  caught  her  by 
the  wrists. 

"Be  quiet!"  he  ordered  in  a  low,  tense  tone. 
"No,  I  am  not  trying  to  protect  my  friend  against 
you,  but  against  your  falsehoods.  I  did  not  mean 
to  say  this,  I  did  not  mean  to  seem  brutal,  but  you 
force  me  to  it.  You  have  spoken  out  your 
thought.  Now  I  shall  speak  out  mine.  You  are 
using  John  Redfield's  name  to  shield  someone 
else." 

"That's  a  lie !"  she  exclaimed.  Then,  with  a 
desire  to  gain  time  :  "Ask  John  Redfield  himself, 
if  you  dare,  and  see  how  he  stands  your  interfer- 
ence!" 

Delaine  took  his  hands  from  her  wrists.  "I  can 
scarcely  do  that,  you  see,"  he  said,  "for  John  Red- 
field  started  for  Europe  nearly  a  month  ago." 

She  shrank  back  with  a  low  exclamation  of 
dismay,  sinking  down  on  the  divan  and  burying 
her  face  in  her  hands.  Kelley  Delaine  was  a 
strong  man,  but  the  sight  of  suffering  moved  him 
painfully.  He  felt  for  a  moment  as  if  forced  to 
watch  the  agony  of  some  creature  whom  he  must 
wound  in  defense  of  someone  he  loved.  He  knew 
that  he  had  been  just,  but  the  thought  of  the  pain 
he  had  inflicted  distressed  him.  He  paused  for 
a  moment,  irresolute,  looking  at  the  girl.  Then 
he  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  the  bowed  head. 


310  The  Two  Sisters 

"Child,"  he  said  softly,  "child,  it's  not  too  late 
to  start  fresh.  We  can  straighten  the  matter  out 
yet,  and  we'll  forget  all  about  it.  I'm  going  to 
leave  you  alone  now,  until  you  get  a  little  more 
quiet.  We  all  have  done  foolish  things  in  our 
lives,  and  have  regretted  them." 

He  stopped.  He  saw  that  she  was  listening, 
and  when  she  spoke  he  bent  down  to  catch  what 
she  said. 

"Please  leave  me  alone  for  a  few  minutes," 
she  murmured.  "Please  leave  me  alone!" 

She  heard  him  close  the  door  softly  behind  him, 
and  she  sprang  again  to  her  feet.  She  must  think 
quickly.  He  had  found  her  out!  That  was  the 
agony — not  the  thought  of  the  lie  itself,  but  only 
that  she  had  been  discovered! 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Kelley  Delaine  returned, 
looking  as  if  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  had 
happened.  In  his  hand  he  bore  a  little  tray,  with 
a  plate  of  biscuit  and  two  cups  of  steaming  choco- 
late upon  it. 

"I  had  an  early  breakfast,"  he  explained,  "and 
I  find  myself  a  bit  empty  in  consequence.  So  I 
made  Wang  brew  me  some  chocolate,  and  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  join  me  in  a  cup  be- 
fore we  settle  down  to  work." 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    311 

He  smiled  and,  pulling  a  small  table  forward, 
put  the  tray  upon  it. 

"Here  are  some  little  crackers,  too,"  he  said. 
"Take  some  of  these." 

Soon  Caryl  Marvin  was  chatting  as  usual,  an 
occasional  long-drawn  breath  being  the  only  evi- 
dence of  her  recent  outburst.  But,  when  Kelley 
Delaine  arose  to  ring  for  Wang  to  take  out  the 
tray,  she  detained  him,  laying  a  light  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"While  I  have  the  courage  to  speak  of  the  mat- 
ter I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  sorry  that  I  lost 
my  temper,"  she  pleaded.  "Perhaps" — looking 
up  into  his  face  with  wide  eyes — "you  will  forgive 
me  when  I  tell  you  how  unhappy  I  am.  For  the 
man  who  has  been  paying  me  attention  and  has 
made  me  like  him,  told  me — and  I  believed  him — 
that  he  was  John  Redfield." 

Kelley  Delaine  was  off  his  guard  for  the  in- 
stant, and  started  violently. 

"The  d scoundrel  1"  he  exclaimed.  Then, 

as  he  looked  at  the  girl,  a  cold  hand  seemed  to  be 
closing  slowly  about  his  heart.  For  he  knew  that 
she  lied. 

It  was  not  strange  that  the  hours  dragged  in 
Delaine's  study  after  the  conversation  between 
him  and  his  stenographer.  The  author  tried  to 


312  The  Two  Sisters 

keep  his  thoughts  on  his  work,  but  before  him 
there  arose  visions  of  the  woman  he  loved  and  his 
heart  ached  at  the  futility  of  expecting  her  sister 
to  be  truthful.  Again  and  again  came  to  his  mind 
the  question:  "What  was  Caryl  Marvin  hiding  or 
trying  to  hide?" 

Yet,  even  while  he  distrusted  Caryl,  Kelley 
Delaine  was  sorry  for  her  when  he  noted  how 
her  lips  twitched  and  how  nervous  she  was  as 
she  attempted  to  take  his  dictation.  At  last,  out 
of  sheer  pity,  he  suggested  that  she  would  better 
put  in  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  doing  some  copy- 
ing for  him.  Then,  handing  her  the  first  draft  of 
an  article  he  had  written,  he  left  her  alone,  ex- 
plaining that  he  had  some  business  to  attend  to. 

"Do  not  work  later  than  twelve,  Miss  Marvin," 
he  said  courteously.  "There  is  no  rush  about 
that  stuff — and  to-morrow  will  be  another  day." 

"Thank  you,"  Caryl  murmured.  "I  will,  of 
course,  work  steadily  until  twelve." 

She  kept  on  at  her  typewriting  after  she  had 
heard  her  employer  close  the  front  door  behind 
him.  Might  he  not  return  and  listen  to  see  if  she 
was  busy,  or  might  he  not  order  his  servant  to 
spy  upon  her  doings?  Surely  higher  than  one's 
self  can  no  man — or  woman — think! 

When  the  noon  whistles  blew  Caryl  closed  her 
machine  with  shaking  hands.  She  did  not  remem- 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    313 

ber  that  in  all  her  life  before  she  had  ever  been 
as  nervous  as  she  was  now.  Kelley  Delaine  was, 
she  felt  sure,  determined  to  ferret  out  her  affairs. 
He  had  discovered  that  she  had  lied  to  Julia  and 
to  him.  While  she  tried  to  comfort  herself  with 
the  thought  that  perhaps  she  had  thrown  him  off 
the  scent  by  telling  him  that  the  man  from  whom 
she  had  accepted  favors  had  posed  to  her  as  John 
Redfield,  it  would  be  only  a  matter  of  a  few 
days,  or  a  few  hours,  before  Delaine  would  learn 
by  detective  work  who  this  man  was  and  charge 
him  with  masquerading  under  another  person's 
name.  Then  Hadley  would  possibly  drop  her. 
She  could  not  part  from  him  now!  He  was  go- 
ing to  marry  her — he  had  as  good  as  asked  her  to 
be  his  wife — and  now  all  her  beautiful  castles  in 
the  air  were  likely  to  tumble  down  about  her 
ears.  The  only  thing  to  do  would  be  to  tell  Ben 
as  much  as  was  prudent  about  this  morning's  con- 
versation. She  would  let  him  know  that  Delaine 
and  Julia  were  determined  to  stop  all  communi- 
cation between  her  and  Hadley,  that  Delaine  was 
furious  at  the  use  of  his  friend's  name,  that,  un- 
less some  way  was  found  to  evade  him  and  Julia, 
Caryl's  father  might  be  notified  of  her  actions  and 
would  probably  descend  upon  her  and  carry  her 
off  to  his  home. 

The  girl  was  so  excited  by  the  time  her  medita- 


314  The  Two  Sisters 

tions  had  reached  this  point  that  the  man  waiting 
for  her  outside  of  the  studio  building  looked  at 
her  in  amazement  as  she  hurried  down  the  steps 
toward  him,  her  face  pale,  her  eyes  wide  and 
dark. 

"Good  heavens,  girlie,"  he  ejaculated,  "what 
is  the  matter?" 

Caryl  glanced  cautiously  about  before  replying. 
The  street  was  almost  deserted  at  this  noon  hour, 
and  she  spoke  rapidly,  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"Oh,  Ben,"  she  quavered,  "Mr.  Delaine  and 
my  sister  have  found  out  everything!  He  is  furi- 
ous at  you — at  me.  He  will  tell  my  sister  to  keep 
me  away  from  you,  to  send  for  my  father  to  take 
me  home,  and,  when  John  Redfield  knows  that 
we  have  used  his  name  and  his  sister's  name — 
and  when  Somerdyke  hears  about  it " 

"Be  quiet  1"  Hadley  ordered  firmly,  though  not 
roughly.  "You  are  scared  out  of  your  wits,  child. 
Come  where  we  can  talk  things  out  quietly,  and" 
— he  paused — "act  accordingly." 

They  had  walked  only  a  few  feet  when  Hadley 
hailed  a  cab  and  put  the  girl  into  it. 

"Drive  slowly  up  the  avenue,"  he  told  the 
cabman.  "Now" — seating  himself  beside  Caryl — 
"tell  me  all  about  this  business.  What  are  you 
afraid  of?" 


Delaine  Speaks  His  Mind    315 

She  caught  her  breath  with  a  dry  sob,  as  he 
took  her  hand  in  his. 

"What  I'm  most  afraid  of,"  she  said  tremu- 
lously, "is  that  they  will  keep  me  from  ever  seeing 
you  any  more." 

A  hard  look  came  into  the  man's  eyes,  as  he 
listened  to  her  story;  then,  when  she  clung  to  him 
and  repeated  that  she  was  afraid  of  never  seeing 
him  again,  he  spoke  gravely,  almost  sternly. 

"See  here,  my  girl,  I  usually  get  what  I  want, 
and  such  cads  as  Delaine  don't  keep  me  from 
getting  it!  See?  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  fol- 
low my  orders.  Will  you  promise  to  do  that?" 

"I  promise,"  she  said  hopefully. 

"Very  well,  then;  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say, 
for  this  is  where  /  propose  to  do  the  talking  and 
acting  I" 

It  was  after  five  o'clock  when  Caryl  Marvin 
emerged  from  a  large  department  store.  Her 
face  was  flushed,  and  all  symptoms  of  fear  and 
distress  had  vanished.  In  her  purse  was  a  good 
deal  of  change — all  that  was  left  of  a  crisp  new 
bill  that  Hadley  had  handed  her  when  he  left 
her  at  the  end  of  their  cab  ride.  She  had  used  it 
as  he  had  directed,  making  sundry  purchases,  the 
chief  of  which  was  a  traveling  suit  and  hat.  But 
the  address  to  which  she  had  ordered  these  arti- 


316  The  Two  Sisters 

clcs  sent  was  not  Mrs.  Halloran's  lodging-house. 
Now  she  glanced  at  the  clock  in  front  of  the 
store. 

"I  will  go  down  to  Baird's  and  walk  home  with 
poor  old  Judy,"  she  decided.  Then  she  smiled. 
"That  will  make  it  impossible  for  her  to  see  De- 
laine this  afternoon,  anyway.  Moreover,  I  will 
manage  to  keep  an  eye  on  her  all  of  this  evening, 
too — even  if  I  do  have  to  take  such  tame  pleasure 
as  going  on  a  'bus  ride.  That  will  also  make  it 
impossible  for  her  to  receive  any  message  from 
Delaine  to-night.  I  will  see  that  she  gets  no  let- 
ter, either.  And  all  this  will  give  me  time  to  work 
out  my  plans.  I  mean" — flushing  with  joyous  ex- 
citement— "Ben's  plans!" 


XXVI 

A   DEPARTURE  AND  A   RETURNING 

JULIA  looked  up  in  pleased  surprise  as  Caryl 
approached  the  lace  counter. 

"Why,  little  sister,"  she  exclaimed,  "this  is  an 
unexpected  pleasure !  How  sweet  and  pretty  you 
are  looking,"  she  added  in  such  a  low  tone  that 
the  other  girls  did  not  hear  her. 

Caryl  smiled  blandly.  "I  had  nothing  in  par- 
ticular to  do,"  she  remarked,  "so  I  thought  I'd 
stop  in  and  walk  home  with  you." 

"That's  dear  of  you,"  returned  Julia,  and,  as 
the  bell  sounded  for  the  closing  hour,  she  hastened 
to  put  away  the  few  boxes  that  were  on  the 
counter. 

"Since  your  sister's  waiting  fpr  you  don't  bother 
to  do  that,"  Minnie  Maibrunn  urged  good-na- 
turedly. "Go  along  home.  You  do  more  than 
your  share  of  work,  anyway." 

Julia  felt  a  glow  of  satisfaction,  as  she  appre- 
ciated how  much  kindness  there  was  in  the  world, 
and  how  nice  the  girls  were  to  her.  They  actually 


3i8  The  Two  Sisters 

seemed  fond  of  her,  she  thought.  And  here  was 
her  dear  little  sister,  who  loved  her  enough  to 
come  all  the  way  down  to  Baird's  to  walk  home 
with  her.  Yes,  the  world  was  a  good  place  after 
all! 

She  chatted  of  Caryl's  work  and  of  her  own, 
of  the  weather,  of  one  thing  and  another,  as  she 
and  her  sister  walked  homeward.  She  did  not 
confess  to  herself  that  underneath  all  the  other 
pleasant  things  that  seemed  to  be  happening  to 
her  was  the  happy  knowledge  of  Kelley  Delaine's 
friendship.  She  still  called  it  this  in  her  thoughts, 
although  she  knew  that  it  was  something  deeper 
than  mere  "friendship." 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Judy,"  Caryl  remarked,  as 
they  entered  their  room,  "I  got  your  little  note 
this  morning.  You  needn't  have  bothered  to 
write  it,  for  I  was  going  to  spend  the  evening 
with  you  anyway." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Julia.  Here  was  another 
pleasant  happening.  "I  am  so  glad,  dear,  that 
we  are  to  have  the  evening  together." 

While  Caryl  was  in  the  hall  washing  her  hands 
Julia's  eyes  fell  upon  the  sheet  of  paper  signed 
"Dora  Redfield,"  which  her  sister  had  left  open 
on  the  bureau  that  morning.  It  had  been  laid 
there  intentionally,  in  the  hope  that  Julia,  seeing 
it,  might  believe  the  stenographer's  story  about 


A  Departure  319 

her  imaginary  friends.    As  Caryl  returned  to  the 
room  Julia  held  the  letter  out  to  her. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "I  did  not  mean  to  read  your 
correspondence,  but  I  could  not  help  seeing  this 
open  sheet  of  paper,  for  it  was  right  in  front  of 


me." 


"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Caryl  responded  indiffer- 
ently, "read  it,  if  you  want  to.  I'd  rather  like  you 
to  see  what  an  affectionate  little  goose  Dora  Red- 
field  is." 

"She  writes  a  masculine  kind  of  a  hand,"  ob- 
served Julia  innocently,  as  she  glanced  over  the 
letter.  "But  lots  of  women  do  write  like  men 
nowadays.  Did  you  meet  her,  by  the  way,  as 
she  suggested?" 

"Yes,"  said  Caryl,  "I  met  her  at  noon-time,  and 
she  took  me  out  to  luncheon ;  then  I  went  with  her 
while  she  did  some  shopping.  When  we  parted 
I  came  down  for  you." 

"I  see,"  rejoined  Julia.  Then  the  matter  passed 
from  her  mind. 

Nor  did  it  recur  during  the  evening  in  which 
she  and  Caryl  went  for  a  'bus  ride,  although  upon 
their  return  the  younger  girl  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  she  had  a  note  to  write. 

"There's  something  I  forgot  to  speak  to  Dora 
about  this  afternoon,"  she  remarked.  "I'll  just 


32O  The  Two  Sisters 

sit  down  here  and  scribble  a  line  to  her,  then  run 
out  to  the  corner  and  mail  it." 

"Why  not  wait  and  telephone  her  in  the  morn- 
ing?" suggested  Julia.  "I  hate  to  have  you  go 
out  alone  as  late  as  this.  If  I  had  not  begun  to 
undress  I'd  go  with  you." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Caryl.  "What's  go- 
ing to  hurt  me?  Dora  Redfield  leaves  town  to- 
morrow, so  I  shall  not  see  her  again  for  a  while, 
and  she  may  be  gone  before  I  could  telephone  her 
in  the  morning." 

"Is  she  going  away?"  queried  Julia  in  astonish- 
ment. Then  she  was  ashamed  of  the  stifled  desire 
that  made  her  ask  almost  hopefully:  "Is  her 
brother  going,  too?"  • 

But  Caryl,  bending  over  her  letter,  seemed  not 
to  hear.  She  had  finished  writing  before  she  re- 
plied. 

"I  believe  he  is  going  in  a  day  or  two.  I  may 
possibly  go  out  with  him  to-morrow  evening — if 
you  don't  mind,"  she  added  submissively. 

"Why,  no,  dear,  I  don't  mind,"  Julia  answered, 
remembering  with  a  throb  of  relief  that  Delaine 
had  said  Redfield  was  all  right.  "But  I'm  sorry 
his  sister  is  going  away." 

Caryl  was  rereading  her  note,  preparatory  to 
sealing  it.  Julia  would  have  gasped  in  dismayed 
astonishment  could  she  have  read  over  the  writer's 


A  Departure  321 

shoulder.  For  the  alleged  "note  to  Dora  Red- 
field"  was  as  follows: 

"My  dear  Mr.  Delaine:  Do  not  be  surprised 
if  I  am  not  at  your  rooms  to-morrow  morning,  for 
I  am  half-ill  to-night  with  a  cold.  If  I  am  able  to 
be  out  in  the  morning  I  will  come  to  work.  If  not 
I  will  keep  quiet  in  the  house  so  that  I  can  go  to 
work  the  next  day.  Julia  begs  me  to  do  this.  She 
is  sure  that  you  will  understand,  and  want  me  to 
take  care  of  my  cold  in  the  beginning  so  it  don't 
get  worse.  Yours  truly,  C.  Marvin." 

Julia  was  in  bed  when  Caryl  returned  from 
posting  her  letter.  Usually  it  was  the  older  sister 
who  was  the  poor  sleeper,  but  to-night  Caryl  lay 
wide  awake,  hour  after  hour.  She  was  not  anx- 
ious, or  ill,  only  too  much  excited  and  too  happy  to 
close  her  eyes.  She  gave  little  thought  to  her 
sister,  and  that  thought  held  no  compunction  or 
regret.  She  remembered  Delaine's  discovery  of 
her  falsehoods;  she  also  remembered  his  devotion 
to  Julia,  and  Julia's  liking  for  him.  Thinking  on 
these  things  she  hardened  her  heart  against  her 
two  best  friends. 

And  Julia,  secure  in  the  nearness  and  safety  of 
her  little  sister,  slept  on  peacefully  and  dream- 
lessly  through  all  the  hours  of  darkness,  not  awak- 
ing until  the  alarm-clock  summoned  her  to  go  to 
her  work.  Then  she  got  up,  with  a  happy  heart 


322  The  Two  Sisters 

and  an  affectionate  glance  at  the  fair  face  on  the 
pillow  next  her  own. 

Caryl  Marvin's  letter  to  her  employer  was 
brought  to  him  as  he  sat  at  his  eight  o'clock  break- 
fast. He  read  it  carelessly.  He  was  not  an- 
noyed that  his  stenographer  was  not  coming  to 
him  to-day.  In  fact,  he  did  not  care  to  see  her 
just  now.  Of  course  he  was  sorry  she  was  not 
well,  he  told  himself;  then  he  forgot  her  in  the 
thoughts  that  had  filled  his  mind  ever  since  yes- 
terday. They  were  all  of  Julia  Marvin,  his  love 
of  her,  his  pity  for  her,  his  desire  to  protect  her 
and  make  her  his  wife.  Over  and  over  he  asked 
himself  the  question:  Why  not  tell  her  all  this? 

Of  course  he  appreciated  the  fact  that  he  had 
not  known  Julia  long,  but  he  had  known  her  long 
enough  to  love  her.  And  she  did  not  know  him 
well,  but  he  would  tell  her  anything  about  him- 
self that  she  wished  to  ask.  He  had  fallen  far 
short  of  the  ideal  man  he  wished  to  become  to 
be  worthy  of  her,  but  he  thanked  heaven  that  he 
had  at  least  a  decent  and  clean  record. 

Now  that  he  had  the  morning  to  himself  why 
not  write  to  Julia  before  he  began  work,  although 
he  knew  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  fix  his  mind 
on  his  work  until  he  had  learned  his  fate?  Well, 
then,  work  must  wait! 

It  took  him  a  long  time  to  write  his  letter.    Late 


A  Departure  323 

in  the  afternoon,  in  her  own  room,  Julia  read  it 
and  re-read  it.  She  was  alone.  When  she  had 
started  to  work  that  morning  Caryl — not  yet  out 
of  bed — had  told  her  not  to  worry  if  she  was 
not  at  home  early. 

"John  Redfield  has  invited  me  to  dinner  and 
to  a  concert  afterward,"  she  explained  drowsily, 
"so  don't  expect  me  until  you  see  me.  I  did  not 
sleep  much  last  night,  and  I  don't  want  to  talk 
now.  Let  me  get  another  nap,  please,  Judy." 

"All  right,  dear;  good-by,"  Julia  said  softly, 
bending  over  to  kiss  her. 

"Good-by,"  was  the  sleepy  response. 

So  when  the  older  girl  came  home  from  work 
she  was  not  surprised  to  find  the  room  empty. 
For  a  while  she  was  glad  of  her  solitariness,  as  it 
gave  her  an  opportunity  to  think  over  all  that  Kel- 
ley  Delaine  had  written. 

She  thought  of  nothing  else  all  the  evening. 
Her  heart  told  her  what  to  answer,  but  she 
wished  to  consider  all  sides  of  the  question.  This 
she  had  done  when  she  seated  herself  at  the  table 
at  which  Caryl  had  sat  twenty-four  hours  earlier 
to  write  her  letter  to  the  same  man  whom  Julia 
was  now  writing  to.  Julia's  note  was  as  brief  as 
Caryl's  had  been. 

"I  believe  you  implicitly,"  she  wrote.  "It 
would  be  foolish  and  wicked  were  I  to  pretend 


324  The  Two  Sisters 

now  that  I  do  not  care  for  you.  But  I  am  not 
clever  or  well  educated,  and  am  only  a  poor  work- 
ing-girl— and  you  are  all  the  things  that  I  am  not. 
Still,  you  tell  me  to  reply  just  what  my  heart  dic- 
tates, and  to  think  of  nothing  else.  If  I  obey  you 
in  this  matter  my  answer  must  be  'Yes'." 

Then  she,  too,  went  to  the  street  corner  and 
posted  her  letter,  and,  returning,  was  too  wide 
awake  to  think  of  sleep.  Seating  herself  under 
the  gas-jet  she  tried  to  read. 

Kelley  Delaine  dined  at  a  restaurant  that  even- 
ing, and  it  was  nine  o'clock  when  he  returned  to 
his  rooms.  On  his  desk  lay  a  letter  in  a  hand- 
writing which  he  recognized  as  his  stenographer's. 
What  could  she  be  writing  to  him  about?  he 
wondered.  Was  it  to  say  that  her  cold  would 
prevent  her  coming  to-morrow? 

He  tore  open  the  envelope  indifferently,  his 
mind  on  the  sister  of  the  girl  whose  epistle  he 
held.  Then,  as  his  eyes  took  in  the  meaning  of 
the  written  words,  he  started  violently.  The  sen- 
tences before  him  had  been  written  hurriedly,  but 
they  stared  at  him  with  vicious  meaning. 

"When  you  get  this,"  Caryl  had  .written, 
"please  notify  my  sister  that  I  have  gone  away 
to  be  married.  I  cannot  stand  being  spied  at  and 
interfered  with.  I  love  the  man  I  am  going  with. 
I  am  tired  of  work,  tired  of  the  kind  of  life  I 


A  Departure  325 

have  had  to  live.  Indeed,  I  am  tired  of  every- 
body except  this  man.  Julia  will  not  miss  me  if 
she  has  you.  That  is  why  I'm  sending  this  to  you. 
She  won't  feel  badly  if  you  tell  her  about  my  plans. 

"Caryl  Marvin." 

The  petty  spite  contained  in  the  words,  the  bit- 
ter resentment,  did  not  so  much  as  touch  the  man 
to  whom  they  were  addressed.  Instead  his  one 
emotion  was  a  great  sense  of  pity  for  the  woman 
he  loved,  who  was  even  now  waiting  at  home  for 
her  little  sister.  How  could  he  lessen  this  blow 
for  her?  How  could  he  spare  her  a  night  of 
agonized  anxiety?  There  was  no  telephone  in 
Mrs.  Halloran's  lodging-house.  He  could  not 
go  there  at  this  time  in  the  evening  and  call  on 
her  without  exciting  disagreeable  comment. 
There  was  but  one  course  left  him.  He  would 
telegraph  a  quieting  message.  Then,  to-morrow, 
he  would  see  Julia  and  tell  her  the  truth. 

Thus  it  came  about  that,  as  Julia  Marvin  sat 
reading,  Mrs.  Halloran's  agitated  knock  prefaced 
her  hurried  entrance  into  her  lodger's  room.  She 
held  a  yellow  envelope  at  arm's  length. 

"Sure,  dear,"  she  said  gaspingly,  "I  hope  it 
don't  carry  no  bad  news!" 

Julia  hastily  tore  open  the  envelope,  imaginings 
of  her  father's  possible  illness  or  death  rushing 


326  The  Two  Sisters 

upon  her.  She  read  the  message  twice  before  she 
spoke. 

"That's  all  right,  Mrs.  Halloran,"  she  said 
then,  "it's  only  a  message  from  a  friend  of  my 
sister's  and  mine." 

When  she  was  alone  again  she  repeated  the 
words  over  to  herself  in  perplexity. 

"Do  not  worry  at  your  sister's  absence  over 
night.  I  will  explain  it  when  I  see  you  to-morrow 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  little  park.  Kelley  Delaine" 

It  was  characteristic  of  Julia's  faith  in  the  man 
she  had  learned  to  love  that  no  doubt  as  to  his 
fair-dealing  penetrated  her  mind. 

"I  will  try  to  do  as  he  says,"  she  muttered,  "and 
not  worry,  but  where  is  Caryl?  Perhaps,  after 
all,  Dora  Redfield  decided  not  to  leave  town  until 
to-morrow,  and  Caryl  is  staying  with  her." 

With  which  solution  of  the  problem  Julia  Mar- 
vin tried  to  be  content. 

Looking  back  over  the  days  following  Caryl's 
disappearance — her  elopement,  as  Kelley  Delaine 
was  careful  to  call  it — Julia  always  remembered 
distinctly  two  things,  her  own  anguish  and  her 
lover's  goodness.  In  telling  her  the  awful  truth 
he  had  spoken  briefly  and  compassionately.  "She 
has  gone  away  to  be  married,"  he  had  said. 


A  Departure  327 

"To — to — John  Redfield?"  Julia  asked  quickly. 
"He  is  a  good  man — isn't  he?" 

Perhaps  the  hardest  ordeal  which  Kelley  De- 
laine ever  had  to  endure  was  telling  Julia  Marvin 
that  her  sister  had  lied  in  giving  John  Redfield's 
name  as  that  of  the  man  with  whom  she  was  in- 
fatuated, and  that,  as  yet,  no  trace  of  the  girl  or 
her  lover  could  be  found.  Julia  tried  to  be  brave, 
but  the  terror  and  desolation  that  overwhelmed 
her,  as  she  thought  of  facing  life  in  the  store 
and  lodging-house  now  that  Caryl  was  gone,  made 
her  appreciate  that  Delaine  was  right  in  urging 
her  to  go  back  to  her  father's  house  for  a  while. 
She  had  a  strange  sense  of  unregretfully  wasting 
an  opportunity  when  she  gave  up  her  position  at 
Baird's,  but  nothing  made  much  difference  to  her 
now  except  thoughts  of  Caryl  and  of  Delaine. 
She  seemed  for  weeks  to  wander  in  a  dream. 

Her  father  was  pathetically  glad  to  see  her. 
He  had  aged  within  the  past  few  months  and  wel- 
comed her  eagerly.  When  she  told  him  of  the 
great  sorrow  that  had  come  upon  them,  the  old 
man  spoke  no  word  of  blame,  and  agreed  unpro- 
testingly  to  Julia's  suggestion  that  her  step-mother 
be  kept  in  ignorance  of  what  had  happened. 

"It  is  enough  for  her  to  know  that  Caryl  has 
left  New  York  to  take  a  position  in  another  city," 
he  said  gravely.  "Our  secret  and  the  family  shame 


328  The  Two  Sisters 

— if  shame  there  is — are  ours  and  ours  alone,  my 
child." 

Perhaps  there  was  something  in  Julia's  in- 
creased gentleness  or  softened  manner  that  les- 
sened Mrs.  Marvin's  animosity  toward  her.  So 
tactfully  and  unobtrusively  did  the  girl  lift  sundry 
burdens  from  the  wife's  shoulders  that  she  soon 
was  accepted  by  the  masterful  mistress  of  the 
home  as  a  not  unpleasant  addition  to  the  house- 
hold. 

Meanwhile  Kelley  Delaine  was  leaving  no  stone 
unturned  to  learn  that  which  might  lessen  Julia's 
anxiety.  Somerdyke  had  sailed  for  South  Amer- 
ica. His  engagement  to  Dora  Redfield  had  been 
announced  just  after  his  departure.  To  him  De- 
laine wrote,  hoping  that  he  could  throw  some  light 
on  Caryl's  conduct  or  tell  him  who  her  companion 
was.  When  at  last  Somerdyke's  reply  came  it 
contained  the  information  that  the  writer  had  in- 
troduced Ben  Hadley  to  Delaine's  stenographer, 
as  Ben  had  asked  for  an  introduction. 

"If  any  trouble  has  come  of  it,  I'm  sorry," 
Somerdyke  wrote.  "I  supposed  then  that  Hadley 
was  a  very  decent  sort.  I  did  not  discover  until 
just  before  I  left  New  York  that  he  has  a  wife 
and  child  down  South  somewhere." 

Kelley  Delaine,  reading  this,  groaned.  He  had 
promised  Julia  to  tell  her  all  that  he  learned. 


A  Departure  329 

Here  was  another  blow  for  her.  And  the  pros- 
pect of  his  next  visit  to  Springfield  was  shadowed 
by  the  thought  of  the  suffering  of  the  woman  who 
would  be  watching  and  longing  for  his  coming. 
But  he  knew  how  brave  and  patient  she  would  be, 
and  he  loved  her  all  the  more  for  her  silent 
heroism. 

In  spite  of  sadness  and  complete  absence  of  any 
further  information  about  Caryl,  Julia  found  the 
weeks  and  months  slipping  slowly  away.  At  last 
Spring  came,  and  on  the  first  of  May  she  and 
Kelley  Delaine  were  quietly  married  by  the  old 
minister  who  had  baptized  her.  Then,  with  af- 
fectionate words  from  her  father  and  actual  tears 
from  her  step-mother,  Julia  set  forth  again  to  be- 
gin a  new  life  in  New  York. 

Julia  Delaine  had  been  married  for  six  months 
when  her  husband  came  into  their  cosy  living-room 
one  night,  his  face  sad  and  pale.  It  was  useless 
to  attempt  to  hide  from  his  wife  the  knowledge 
that  he  had  heard  some  distressing  news,  for  she 
noted  his  changed  countenance,  and  the  fear  that 
was  always  in  her  mind  sprang  to  her  eyes  as  she 
whispered,  "Caryl?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  said  compassionately.  "She  is 
in  an  uptown  hospital.  She  is  desperately  ill  and 
gave  my  name  when  she  appreciated  that  she  could 


330  The  Two  Sisters 

not  get  well.  She  said  I  was  in  communication 
with  her  friends  and  would  bring  you  to  her.  I 
will  take  you  to  her  at  once,  darling." 

An  hour  later  Julia  stood  in  the  public  ward  by 
the  screened  bed  on  which  lay  her  little  sister. 
The  girl's  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  once  round 
face  was  so  pinched  and  pale  that  one  who  had 
not  known  Caryl  Marvin  intimately  would  scarcely 
have  recognized  this  wasted  creature.  The  phy- 
sician in  attendance  and  the  clergyman  who  had 
been  summoned  to  talk  with  the  patient  told  Julia 
and  her  husband  what  they  knew  about  the  case. 
All  that  Caryl  had  suffered  was  known  only  by 
herself  and  the  man  who  had  wrecked  her  life  and 
then  cast  it  aside  as  a  very  little  thing.  An  over- 
whelming sense  of  the  injustice  of  the  world  shook 
Julia  as  she  gazed  on  the  altered  face  of  the  child 
who  had  been  her  care  and  companion. 

"Oh,"  whispered  the  wife,  clinging  to  her  hus- 
band, "where  is  he — the  man — this  night?  Com- 
fortable, probably,  while  there  is  my  little  sister 
paying  with  her  life  for  his  sin  as  well  as  for  lier 
own.  It  isn't  fair!" 

"Hush,  darling!"  cautioned  Kelley.  "See,  she 
is  opening  her  eyes  and  looking  at  you." 

Julia  went  forward  swiftly  and  bent  over  the 
bed.  "Dear  little  girl!"  she  murmured. 

Caryl  eyed  her  wonderingly  and  tried  to  smile. 


A  Departure  331 

"Poor  old  Judy!"  she  breathed,  "I  did  not  know 
you  were  here." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  while  the  dying 
girl  gazed  into  the  loving  face  bending  over  her. 
Then  her  lips  moved  again. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  be  bad,  Judy,"  she  whis- 
pered. "Will  you  forgive  me?" 

The  older  sister  dropped  on  her  knees  by  the 
bed  and  put  her  arms  about  the  broken,  dying 
creature.  "There  is  nothing  for  me  to  forgive, 
darling,"  she  sobbed.  "You  have  paid,  and  God 
forgives." 

The  girl  smiled.  "Yes,"  she  murmured,  "He 
forgives." 

The  smile  was  still  on  the  gray  lips  when  the 
nurse  laid  her  hand  gently  on  Julia's  shoulder. 
"Come  away,  Mrs.  Delaine,"  she  urged,  "she  is 
asleep  now." 

"Yes,  dear,"  Delaine  added  softly,  "Caryl  is 
safe  at  last." 

And  Julia,  looking  at  the  peaceful  face,  re- 
peated, "Yes,  she  is  safe  at  last,  thank  God  I" 

On  the  morning  of  their  first  wedding  anniver- 
sary Julia  and  Kelley  Delaine  stood  at  their  win- 
dow looking  out  toward  the  park,  where  the  trees 
were  bursting  into  bud.  There  had  been  a  silence 
between  the  pair  as  each  thought  what  the  day 


332  The  Two  Sisters 

meant  for  them  both.    Julia  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  am  very  happy,  Kelley,"  she  said,  laying  her 
head  on  his  shoulder.  The  man  drew  her  to  him 
with  a  swift  motion  of  tenderness. 

"I  am  the  happiest  man  in  the  world,"  he  told 
her,  "and  I  love  you  better  with  each  day  that 
passes." 

His  wife  smiled,  yet  there  were  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "Thank  you  for  telling  me  that,  dear,"  she 
murmured. 

"Why,  Julia,"  her  husband  protested,  "you 
knew  it  all  already,  didn't  you,  darling?" 

"Of  course,  I  did!"  she  acknowledged  with  a 
happy  laugh.  "But,  being  a  woman,  I  like  to  hear 
you  say  it!" 


THE  END. 


'"*.. , 

A    000035928 


